Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare
by LizD
Summary: Working Title: Cathartic Release   - What kind of nightmare would Booth and Brennan experience given their new status?  Would it be the catalyst to bring them together or the final event to end them forever?
1. Chapter 1

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

**A/N:** I understand that many of you didn't like the Season 4 finale with the coma/dream/book AU. If that is true, you can stop reading right now. For myself, I liked the episode. I thought it was a lot of fun. I didn't realize that it was a set up for the downward slide of B&B. It would have been so much better to just leave that episode as standalone, rather than have it overshadow all that was to follow for our heroes. But since I'm not the creator or writer of Bones, I'm only a fanfix writer; I can use anything that is in cannon to meet my needs - and I need a cathartic release.

This will not be a long saga. It is nine chapters that are finished and I will post them all in very quick succession. In case you are new to my Bones' Fics, I'm not enjoying season six at all. It's not so much about the new girlfriend as it is about the execution and how far the show has slipped in my estimation. Where is the fun? Where is the friendship? Where are the interesting cases? Oh well. There could have been a Hannah, but the show I fell in love with didn't need to be blown apart in the process. So given that - lots of angst in this one. And just like in any nightmare events and people are exaggerated. Let's hope this dip into this AU has the same reverberating effect on Booth and Brennan.

If you are as frustrated as I am, I hope this little ditty will give you some cathartic release as well. Comments are much appreciated.

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Brennan waited outside the hospital for Hannah to arrive; Booth asked her to explain to Hannah what was happening. Booth never shared that he had a brain tumor with Hannah or any of the other events surrounding that time. He pleaded with Brennan to tell Hannah what she needed to know, as his friend, as Hannah's friend. Brennan understood that she was not to share the personal details leading up to the discovery, during the recovery or the months that followed. Brennan was really uncomfortable with that request, but as usual would refuse Booth nothing. In order to keep her promise to him, she would have to lie to Hannah. That was not an issue for Brennan even though she didn't like lying in general; she accepted that their history should not interfere with Booth and Hannah's future. Brennan wondered how much longer she would be able to tolerate being Hannah's friend, being Booth's partner or tolerate her third wheel role. Her world never did right itself after she told Booth that understood that she missed her chance. It was getting increasingly harder to maneuver her way around Booth, Hannah and the dull ache coming from deep within her chest at the sight and thought of them together.

"Temperance!" Hannah called as she ran up. "What's happened? Where's Seeley?"

"He doesn't like to be called Seeley," Brennan said without thinking.

"What?" Hannah didn't understand.

"They are prepping him for surgery."

"Surgery? Temperance, what happened? Did he get shot? What's going on?"

"Booth has a cerebellar pilocytic astrocytoma. He needs surgery to remove it." Brennan wasn't handling this well. It wasn't her fault; people's emotions were not Brennan's forte. Booth shouldn't have asked her to be the one to tell Hannah. The horrified look on Hannah's face was a clear indicator of that. "Booth has a brain tumor. Mostly likely benign. He should be fine."

"Oh my God!" She grabbed Brennan's hand and squeezed.

Brennan could not comfort Hannah; she was holding her own self together by a thread. She pulled her hand away slowly. "Come, I will take you to him."

There were so many other things that Brennan was supposed to say but with all the restrictions, she opted for less. Brennan directed Hannah to Booth's room. She waited outside as the lovers greeted. Booth was putting on a brave face for Hannah. He told her not to worry. He smiled brightly and assured her that he would be fine.

Brennan watched. The ache in her chest felt heavier; she was constricted and found it hard to breath. She needed to leave. She shouldn't be there. It was not her place anymore. One thing did change after Brennan's revelation before Christmas; Booth was nice to her again, nicer, unlike how he was treating her since getting back from Afghanistan. He actually started looking at her again, looking her in the eye. Conversations weren't limited to obligatory case related subjects. He would driver her to a crime scene, he waited for her to interview witnesses, they started speaking again about the cases and not just about the science. They laughed. They had post case drinks. They talked like they had before and he said things that comforted and unnerved her at the same time. He still hadn't come to the lab. And he still did not reach out to her unless there was a case; still no just coffee dates. It was all very confusing to her. Were they partners? Colleagues? Friends? Or were they just two people who had intimate knowledge of each other with a mountain of unsaid things left between them?

Brennan wanted to challenge him on the changes as she had been consistent with him in spite of her newly acknowledged feels and his lover, but opted not to. She hoped that time would fix it, but there was little hope of that. As time passed it became harder for Brennan to be with him, with them. It was harder to watch and be happy for Hannah and Booth - the couple in love. It was partly due to jealousy, some due to envy, most due to sorrow at the loss of her partner and friend. The loss was complete when she found out that Booth told Hannah about her feelings. He gave Brennan no warning and allowed her to be blindsided by Hannah. There was a time when his loyalty to Brennan would be superseded by no one or nothing. What was between them was theirs; he had said so, he demanded it. That was not the case anymore. Brennan could not deny or justify that pain and sorrow it caused her. She could not defend his actions and inactions. She could not forgive him for that betrayal. She was beginning to understand why Angela and everyone else were surprised that Brennan and Hannah could be friends. The truth was they couldn't. Brennan was trying to replace the friendship she had lost with Booth, with a friendship with Hannah. It wasn't going to work and it had to stop.

Brennan was still listed at Booth's medical proxy. He probably just forgot to change it since his return. She would suggest that he do that when he came out of surgery. The administration came to Brennan to ask her to sign waivers and authorize procedures. She was distracted for a moment and didn't see Hannah get escorted from the room as the nurses did the final prep and the surgeon discussed the procedure with Booth.

"Temperance," she said when she was standing at Brennan's side. "I don't understand how this happened. How did they know it was a brain tumor?"

"Booth was suffering from headaches again - hallucinations."

"How do you go from a headache to a brain tumor? He had hallucinations? He never said anything."

Brennan had to tell Hannah about the time before but would have to hold so much back. She needed to be careful - for Hannah's sake as well as her own. "Because this is not the first time this has happened."

"What?"

"Two years ago Booth was diagnosed with the same type of tumor. He had surgery and was ..." She swallowed hard. "He was fine eventually."

"Two years ago? What do you mean eventually?"

"With any type of surgery there are risks. More so with brain surgery as the surgery itself might cause damage."

"What aren't you telling me?" Hannah demanded.

What Brennan was not telling Hannah could fill a book. "The last time Booth had a bad reaction to the anesthesia. He was in a coma for four days." That was enough. She didn't need to say more. "He was back to work in six weeks and it took him a little longer to get back to where he was, but there was no lasting damage." Right, no lasting damage at all, except that it had set in motion the destruction of Booth and Brennan. It seemed appropriate that another tumor, another brain surgery should bookend that period in their relationship. When this was over, maybe Brennan could finally move on too.

Hannah sunk down onto the nearest chair. "Oh my God!"

"Dr. Brennan," the nurse said. "Dr. Campion would like to speak with you."

Hannah puzzled a look at Brennan. "I'm his medical proxy," she explained. "You should have him change that when this is over."

"No," Hannah said desperately. "No, you know more about this than I do. I trust you. Seeley trusts you. We're so grateful to you."

Brennan left to go to the surgeon thinking that she didn't want Hannah's or the loving couple's gratitude. And Booth doesn't like to be called Seeley! Why does he allow her to call him that?

"Dr. Campion?" Brennan asked with voice cracking.

The doctor turned to Brennan. He was tall, dark and had the deepest green eyes she had ever seen in real life. She reactively smiled. He flashed a smile back indicating he liked what he saw in her as well. "Dr. Brennan." He extended his hand. Brennan extended hers and when skin touched skin she was instantly calmed. She didn't know why but she liked and trusted Dr. Campion. "I'm embarrassed to admit this Dr. Brennan, but I am a bit of a fan. I have enjoyed all your books and am anxiously awaiting your next one. I hope it won't be too much longer."

Brennan did not know how to respond. "I have not begun the next novel, but I'm thinking about not doing another Kathy Reichs story."

"I'll read whatever you write; loyal to the author, not the characters." Again he flashed a disarming smile.

"Thank you."

"Now, before I embarrass myself any more, Agent Booth has asked if you would be present in the operating room." Brennan wasn't aware that Booth requested that again. "It's not my policy or the hospital's to allow guests in the OR, but I'm inclined to make an exception for you."

"That's not necessary, Dr. Campion."

"I understand you were present the last time."

"I was."

"Well, honestly, if it would make the patient more comfortable, I will allow it. Again, only for you." He was flirting with her. It had been a long time since anyone flirted so opening with Brennan at least someone Brennan would consider a viable candidate.

"Thank you." She looked to Booth. Hannah was back in with him. They were holding hands and whispering to each other. The tension in her chest tightened. "Doctor, I'm sure you are aware that Booth had a bad reaction to the anesthesia two years ago when he underwent the same procedure."

"Yes, I have spoken to the anesthesiologist and she will be very cognizant."

"Thank you."

"We will begin in thirty minutes. You can scrub up down there." One more smile and he was gone.

Brennan didn't want to be in the operating room. Booth had no idea what it took out of her last time to watch them operate on his brain, and then when he didn't come out of the anesthesia for four days she felt responsible. Why did he ask that again? How could he expect her to do that? She wasn't his partner, she wasn't his friend. She was no one to him anymore yet she was supposed to stand by and watch them cut into his brain to what end?

"Temperance?" Hannah called and waived her into Booth's room.

Brennan entered.

"So?" Booth asked trying to make eye contact with Brennan. "OK?"

Brennan nodded once.

"OK what?" Hannah was left out.

"Bones will be in the OR making sure they don't screw up."

"I will be observing, at Booth's request," she corrected. "Dr. Campion is very well respected in his field."

"I trust you, Bones." He said still trying to catch and hold her gaze. Brennan was looking everywhere but at Booth. "This time watch the anesthesiologist too, OK?" He grinned. "Wouldn't want a repeat of last time."

His smile felt like a slap in the face. Brennan felt her heart slowly being crushed and had to fight not to show the pain.

"Oh yes, Temperance said something about a coma." Hannah pressed Booth's hand. "That must have been horrible. Do you remember anything from when you were out?"

Brennan watched Booth's eyes flickered with recognition of what they shared. They never talked about it but it was very much a shared memory. He didn't look at Brennan, but he remembered, he remembered all of it in Technicolor that much was obvious. Booth was just about to open his mouth to lie to his new love, to spare her, to spare himself. He no longer cared what his words, his actions, his generosity to her were doing to Brennan. He would deny it, or minimize it, or ridicule it as an odd dream and leave out all the salient points. Brennan couldn't stand to watch. She cleared her throat and said that she needed to go scrub up. She would see Booth in the OR and would come find Hannah in the waiting room to tell her when it was over.

As Brennan scrubbed her hands and nails she remembered her book, her story of Booth and Bren, the nightclub owners suspected of murder. She remembered their bliss. Their joy at discovering they were pregnant. She remembered how connected they were and how nothing could shake their love for each other. Even as she wrote it she knew that it wouldn't last. She wondered how it all went wrong.

**=|=.B.=|=.O.=|=.N.=|=.E.=|=.S.=|=**


	2. Chapter 2

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 2

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_**People say you learn from your mistakes, but people are as wrong about that as they are about everything. As the light of a winter's day shone bright, a woman returned to her home. How long was she gone; a day, a week, a year? Will she be welcomed back? Where was she? Will she be coming home to the same place she left? Will she be allowed to make amends? Or was it too late? What happened during her absence? What other trouble had befallen her friends, her family, her husband that she was not there to share the burden? Will she be forgiven? Or was this a storm that they could not weather? **_

Bren sat across from the club in her car. She was there for at least an hour screwing up her courage to enter. She was gone for seven months; seven miserable, desolate, lonely months. She left because she couldn't bear to see the hurt in his eyes anymore. She never wanted to hurt him but she couldn't live with him, work with him, sleep with him without causing him pain. She had her own pain. Every fiber in her body ached; his words, his touch, his kiss were unbearable. Bren was inconsolable when they lost the baby. She lost her taste for food, work, sex; her reason to get out of bed in the morning. He was patient, kind and compassionate. He didn't understand. He would never understand. She didn't deserve his patience, his kindness, his compassion. He was not responsible for the losing the life they created. She was entirely to blame. She was unforgivable and his forgiveness made it worse. Exile was the only avenue left open to her.

Booth asked her not to go; he begged, pleaded, bargained and finally threatened her with the only thing he had left to stop her from leaving. Nothing worked. His parting words to her were, "If you go, I won't be here when you get back." He didn't mean that literally. He meant that he would take back his love. Their marriage would be over. She knew that, but in her mind the marriage was over the day their baby died. She could no longer be his lover, his wife, his partner – not after losing his son. How could he ever trust her again after losing something so precious? How could she trust herself? There would be no future for Bren and Booth - or so she thought.

In the intervening seven months, Bren learned to forgive herself. She came to realize that even though the baby was in her care to nurture and grow, that she was doing all she could to bring this life into the world, nothing would have been enough. The baby was not strong enough to make it in the world regardless of how much he was loved. She grieved the loss of her son. Eventually Bren came to realize that life does go on. That she could heal. That she would be able to get up in the morning, work productively and find a modicum of joy in her life. The fact that she would never bear a child was not the end of the world. She grieved that too. She also realized that she was still desperately in love with her husband and wanted to reconcile. She told herself not to hope. Booth was a man of his word and not the kind to hold a torch, but he held grudges for life. She hurt him. There was no question about it. She ripped out his heart and handed it back to him. There was amends to be made. Whatever it took, she would do it if he allowed it.

There had been no communication between them. He had a vague notion of where she was, but nothing specific. She knew where he would be night after night but chose not to call. Rather she chose to call when she knew he would not answer - his voice on the message was enough. A few times he did pick up, but she didn't speak. He must have known she was on the other end. He didn't hang up. He didn't get irritated. He just said gently hello again. One time he said, "Talk to me." And another time it was "come home." She didn't respond. Eventually his tone grew angry; he hung up quickly, until he stopped answering the phone all together and had someone else record his voice-mail message.

There was no warning that she would be returning. She hadn't told anyone. There was a reason for that; if she changed her mind no one would be the wiser. Another hour passed as she watched people come and go as the club made ready for the night. Zach, her loyal assistant, walked down the side walk toward the club. She had missed him too. Her departure must have been hard for him. Booth didn't like him, didn't understand him, didn't allow for his eccentricities. Would Booth have misdirected his anger with Bren at Zach? No, Booth was a lot of things, but petty was not one of them.

She had to make her move. She got out of the car, smoothed her clothes and hair. She had dressed for work: cocktail dress, heels, make-up and jewelry. Of course she had lost a great deal of weight, too much weight, and nothing fit like it used to. Make-up couldn't hide her sorrow, her anxiety, her regret. But to any observer, she was beautiful, graceful and confident.

She walked into the club, in from the bright unforgiving sunlight into the safety of the dark club she knew so well. Angela was at the hostess stand making ready for the evening. The rest of the crew, Sweets, Daisy, Fisher, Vincent and Zach were at the bar doing the same thing. Hodgins, the writer, was at the other end of the bar watching the door. He was always watching, observing, making notes on all he saw. He was the first to see her. A smile slowly edged his lips. Confrontation: a writer's meat.

"Bren," Angie squealed. "Bren, you're back." She hugged Bren hard. "Wow," she noticed the weight loss and how frail and fragile she felt. "You look ... good, really good."

"Hi," Bren said weakly. She nodded up to the office. "Is he in?"

Angie's face washed with trepidation. "Yeah, but ... I mean ... let me call him."

"No, please." Bren pressed Angie's hand and walked toward the stairs. She made eye contact with each of her employees, her friends, her family and nodded a hello. They all smiled tentatively back at her never taking their eyes off of her.

Angie joined the group as did Hodgins.

"Does she know?"

"I don't know ... maybe."

"How could she?"

"Shouldn't someone warn her?"

"Do you think she'll stay?"

"Do you think he'll let her?"

"A year ago she would have kicked that blonde bitch to the curb, but now ... she's so frail. Did you see how frail she was?"

"My money is still on Mrs. B." All eyes looked to Zach. He was right. Bren on her worst day was twice what the Barbie doll could ever hope of being.

Bren took a deep breath, braced herself for whatever was behind the door and entered her old office.

Booth was in his chair with a blonde straddling him. Brennan was grateful that she had gotten there when she did. Ten minutes later and they would have been naked. As it was little was left to the imagination.

"Well, well, well," Booth jeered over the blonde's shoulder. "Look what the cat dragged in."

The blonde looked over at Brennan and giggled. She draped her arms around Booth and settled into his shoulder kissing his neck leaving bright red lipstick on his cheek, neck and collar. Her blouse was undone and her skirt was up around her waist. There was no embarrassment or pretense of hiding what they were so obviously doing. "And this is, Boothy?" she said as she sucked his earlobe between her teeth.

"That, my pet, is my wife."

"I thought you said she was pretty." The blonde tucked her hand inside his shirt and pinched his nipple.

"Must have been a long trip back from ..."

"New Mexico," Bren filled in.

"Right, Land of Enchantment ... figures."

"Can we talk?" Bren said maintaining an unreadable expression. "Alone."

"Sure, sure ... anything for my blushing bride." He pushed the blonde off his lap a little too roughly. "Go on Babe, go get ready for your first set. I'll be down shortly."

"Ok, Boothy," she cooed. She leaned down, giving Bren full view of her assets and her lack of underclothing. She kissed him deeply and massaged his crotch. "Such a waste though." His desire was apparent through his unzipped pants. "I sing better when I'm satisfied."

"Gone on, Babe." He slapped her on the ass and nodded to the door.

Hannah sauntered passed Bren out of the office.

Booth got up to get himself a drink: three fingers of the best scotch in the house. He gestured to her asking if she wanted one, Bren shook her head. After taking a big swallow, he filled the glass again. With no shame, in fact there was perverse enjoyment, he zipped and buttoned his pants, but never moved to wipe the lipstick off his face. "So you're back," he said when he realized she was not about to start.

"I am."

"Did you imagine that I would be here pining away for you? Destroyed, wrecked, a shell of a man?"

"No."

"Did you imagine that I would accept you with open arms? All is forgiven?"

"No."

"What did you expect?" He drained his glass again and filled it one more time.

"I expected to find the man I married," she said coldly.

"Long gone, doll face. Long, Long ... Long gone."

"I can see that." She moved toward the desk, her desk. "So?" She nodded toward the door. "One in a long line or ..."

"Who Hannah? Nope, the one and only ... the only one who meant anything. She loves me. She'll never leave me. Sexy as hell and has a great set of pipes." He made the international sign for breasts and licked his lips. "If you stick around long enough, you'll see her perform."

"I caught her performance, very impressive."

"You don't know the half of it," he grinned.

"If you are trying to make me jealous, you have succeeded."

"Hard to tell," he snapped. "With that icy exterior of yours." He drained the glass. "Maybe you ought to wear a sign around your neck."

The alcohol was affecting him and she didn't believe what she had witnessed was his first for the day. "Did you file?"

"File?" he snorted. "You mean the divorce citing abandonment as the cause? Nah, you are better with the paperwork."

She picked up a stack of receipts on the desk. "I can see that too."

"So, what? You came back to let me buy you out of the club, just like that. After all this time?"

She sat down and started sorting through the paper work. "I have no intention of selling my half of the club to you or anyone else."

"You're not going to buy me out, wife."

"No."

"You expect us to run this together? Get a clue."

"I have a clue and if I leave this place in your hands much longer, there will be nothing left to sell."

"HEY!" He protested. "I have been doing this on my own for seven months ... longer if you count the -." He stopped himself. He would not bring up the months she was bedridden with the baby and the six weeks she couldn't get out of bed after they lost him. "I managed all on my own."

"Well the place hasn't burned down, so there is that. I'll need to see the bookings list and any other outstanding bills that you have that are not in this mess." She opened the drawer to pull out the check book. More receipts and vendor invoices with PAST DUE stamped on them came fluttering out.

"Look Bren, you're not just going to waltz back in here after seven months and expect to take over."

"I'm not taking over. I'm doing my job." She looked up at him and fixed him with a glare that would have sunk other men to their knees.

"It's been so long, you have to forgive me if I don't recognize you pulling your own weight."

She lifted a bra off the desk with a pen and tossed it toward him. "I have no control over what or who you do ... don't do it in my office."

"So you are jealous."

She looked back down. "I told you I was."

"Right." He ran his hand through his hair. "Right." He was not getting the reaction he wanted, not that he thought about the reaction Bren would give him when he started with Hannah Bee.

"Bookings list? Outstanding invoices? An inventory might be nice, have you done one of those since I left?"

"Sure, sure, Mrs. B. Will get your boy Zach on that right away." He mocked a salute and left. If he could have slammed the door behind him he would have.

Bren leaned back in the chair and exhaled. Tears almost came but she forced them back. She needed to get to work. She pulled off her earrings and opened the other drawer to put them where she always put them. She pulled out a hot pink thong. Her stomached tightened. She tossed them in the trash. Something else caught her eye. She pulled out the small black and white picture. It was the ultrasound of their son. The only picture they would ever have of him. Her eyes filled with hot tears. She pushed them away and took a deep breath. She returned the picture to the drawer. He kept it, was that good or bad?

Back to work.


	3. Chapter 3

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 3

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Booth stormed out of the office on his way to the stock room.

"Can I do anything for you, Boss?" asked Wendell, Booth's loyal bodyguard.

"You should be watching the door, Wendell," Booth barked. "Your job is to keep out the riff raff."

Wendell looked to the rest of the crew. Was he implying that Bren was riff raff? "Right away, boss."

Booth slammed the door of the stock room behind him. It was the only safe place he had found in the past seven months. No one bothered him in there. He had his very private stash in the back corner. He ripped open the last case and pulled out a bottle. He twisted off the top and took a large drink forcing it down with a wince. It didn't seem to calm him. It always had in the past. He took one more. Nothing. He looked at the bottle in his hand. Rage crept up his spine. He caught sight of his reflection in an old bar mirror that had been stored in there. He was a pathetic shell of a man. His pants were loose, wrinkled and three days old. His shirt was rumpled and un-tucked. There was lipstick on his face, neck and collar. His eyes were dull and angry. There was a time when he used to take immense pride in his appearance. He looked again at the bottle in his hand, and back at his reflection. Then he let fly. The bottle crashed into the mirror, glass and mirror shards mixed with scotch were sent into the air and settled on the floor and surrounding boxes.

Wendell burst through the door. "Boss, Boss ... Are you alright?"

"GET OUT OF HERE," Booth bellowed. He hadn't been that angry in months, seven months to be precise. He sunk down on to a several cases of beer. How did everything go so wrong?

A year ago he was a man who had everything: a wife whom he cherished who loved him as well, a business that was profitable and kept him productive, and he was about to have a son. He never knew how much he wanted a child until the day she told him she was pregnant. It changed his whole world. The petty troubles at the club were finally put in perspective. His focus became his wife and unborn child. He had been happy; then he was over the moon. But something happened, something he couldn't foresee or prevent something with the baby.

Bren was put on bed rest. It was hard to keep that woman down, but she did for the baby, she did it for Booth, she did it for their family. And then the worst happened. She was home resting. She got up to make herself some tea. Booth was not home. He was working or something else unimportant. He should have been with her. When he got home she was unconscious on the floor of the kitchen in a pool of blood. No one knew how long she had been there. He was no longer afraid just for the baby, he was afraid for his wife. The ambulance came and took them away. By time he got to the hospital, the baby was gone and his wife was in critical condition. The doctor couldn't stop the bleeding. To save her life, Booth had to authorize a hysterectomy. It was a decision he made alone; there was no time. She woke to no baby and no hope for a baby but she was alive. In her drug induced haze she claimed she would rather have died. Booth lost his wife anyway. It took her six more weeks to make a physical exit, but she was as good as gone that fateful day in the hospital. Nothing mattered after that.

He had recently given up hope of her ever coming back. Why was she there? What was she thinking? What did she want? What more could she take from him?

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

The club opened as if it were any other night. Bren stayed in the office and Booth was on the floor. The staff felt the tension but pretended they didn't. Booth's blonde did her first set to very few patrons and even less applause. The club was not doing so well anymore. Each night the covers were less and less, the receipts were dropping and fewer acts were trying to get booked. And the house singer, Hannah Bee, was a wannabe that never would be. Her repertoire was bad seventies ballads, she had the stage presence of a stripper and the voice only a lover could endure, nails on a blackboard was the common comparison. She wasn't quite that bad, but night after night after night, it began to feel like torture.

By the second set, Bren was out on the catwalk. She had full view of her husband (still drinking) and his lover. Hannah Bee was singing and gyrating to him. Bren was no longer jealous. She was disgusted and horrified. The man she married, the man she fell in love with, the man she left for his own good, wasn't there anymore. In his place was a man she didn't recognize or like. Was that always who he was? Was she the one who was able to make him a better man? Or had she destroyed the good in him? Was it her fault that he sunk so low? Could she help him find that good man he once was? Could he forgive her for losing faith in herself, in him, in them? It was unforgivable. Did she even have a right to ask?

Bren watched as Booth approached C Sync. Words were exchanged. Booth wanted something from him. An argument ensued and C Sync left the club. Booth glanced up and caught Bren's eye. Hate was all she saw. But she wasn't looking closely enough; it was shame, complete and utter shame. Booth slunk off to some place under the stairs. Bren went back to the office.

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Close to midnight, Bren was on the cat walk again. Booth was nowhere to be seen. She assumed he was with Hannah before her last set. She hadn't really talked to her people yet. That would come after shift. The books of the club were in terrible disarray: vendors had gone unpaid, they were barely making payroll, and three new credit cards had been opened and maxed out since her departure. The hardest for her to accept was that Booth had made several draws on the company amounting to close to one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The club was near bankruptcy. If she had waited any longer to come back, it would have closed its doors.

The night had picked up. It was definitely slower than she remembered even for a Wednesday, but it was certainly better than before. Many of the people she knew came in and were 'surprised' to see her. The word must have gotten around that Bren was back and the people came to see the show - rather the show down between Booth and Bren. Bren was not about to give them the satisfaction. Instead she went down to the floor and acted as if nothing was different.

Max Keenan and Jared Booth were there. She discovered that Jared had gone to work for Max, she didn't ask in what capacity. Bren sent over a round of drinks and ignored their questions about where she was or if she was back to stay. Arastoo Vaziri came in with a beautiful woman on his arm. He was quick to point out that it was a business meeting. After the pleasantries were over, he asked for a meeting with Bren the next day. Given the state of the club financially, she agreed. Caroline Julian was harder to put off. As usual she asked direct and pointed questions: Was she back for good? What did she plan to do to bring the business back to the club? What did she plan to do to get Booth back on track? Bren had no good answers for Ms Julian. C Sync had returned which at least got Bren away from Caroline. He seemed to be the only one to accept her return without question; of course he made it a practice not to dig into another man's underwear drawer.

At fifteen past midnight Hannah Bee came out to perform her final set. Booth was still nowhere. Bren finally asked Sweets, who didn't know. She asked Wendell who looked nervous. He was always nervous around Bren, but more so now as it was his self-appointed job to know where Booth was at all times and to secure his safety. She asked the rest of the crew and no one had seen him since shortly after ten PM.

Hodgins approached Bren. "Hello, Mrs. B. It's nice to have you back."

"Thank you, Mr. Hodgins. I understand your last book about the murder here in the club is doing quite well."

Jack smiled and nodded. "You're looking for Booth?"

Bren turned her full attention on him. "Yes, have you seen him?"

"Not since ten fifteen. He left after having a heated discussion with Heather Taffet."

Bren didn't know that name. "Who is Heather Taffet?"

"Well that depends on who you ask."

"I believe I asked you."

"She's the person who brought Hannah Bee to Booth four months back for an audition. It's her opinion that she still owns Hannah Bee or a percentage of everything she makes."

"I assume Booth does not agree."

"If you were to ask Hannah Bee, she will say that Booth saved her from that life sucking gravedigger. She was not a singer when they were introduced, she was Taffet's assistant."

"I see. What is Booth's opinion?"

"Come on, Mrs. B." He laughed. "You know Mr. B has no time for me. Thinks writing is a waste of time and therefore I have no value."

"I don't believe that is true."

"Well anyway, they had words. Taffet was escorted from the club and Booth left out the back door."

"You say that was around ten?"

Hodgins nodded but he was distracted by a commotion at the door. Brennan looked over and saw that Detective Saroyan was trying to enter with two uniformed officers. Bren went to speak to them.

"Detective, can we help you?"

"Mrs. Booth, I didn't know you had returned." Bren showed no reaction. "I'm looking for your husband. Is he still your husband?"

"We are married, yes. Can you tell me what you wish to speak with him about?"

"Would really rather bring it up with him. Is he here?"

"Yes, I believe he's in the office."

"You believe, you mean you aren't sure?"

"As you can see it has been a very busy night."

"I can see that it's busier than it has been. Your husband?"

Bren turned to Wendell who looked like a kid who got his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Wendell, please go find Mr. Booth and tell him that Detective Saroyan is here to speak with him." She turned her attention back to the officers. "May I get you something? Coffee? Brandy? It's a very cold night out there."

"We're fine," Cam spoke for her people. "Just your husband. Maybe we should help look for him."

"That won't be necessary. I'm sure he will be along in a moment."

"What do you know about your husband's relationship with Heather Taffet?"

Bren's expression did not change. "I'm sorry I don't have no knowledge of any relationship that my husband might have with her. I've been out of town."

"Yes, yes you have." Cam studied her for a moment. "It might surprise you to know that Heather Taffet is the agent for your singer Hannah Bee and your husband has refused to pay her percentage for bringing such ... talent to your establishment." Saroyan nodded toward the stage.

Brennan's eyes followed and it took every bit of strength she had not to let her disdain and horror show on her face. Hannah Bee was in the middle of an excruciatingly bad rendition of 'The Way We Were.' Brennan winced along with the rest of the crowd.

"I have no reason to doubt you." Brennan said and looked back at Detective Saroyan. "But I do not believe that is correct."

"So you do know Heather Taffet," Saroyan concluded.

"I know my husband."

"You knew your husband, Mrs. Booth. A lot has changed in the past several months. Do you know that we are called out here at least once a week to break up a fight or escort someone off the premises and each time your husband is involved?"

"I was not aware of that."

"Do you know that we have had to prevent your husband from driving on more than one occasion because his blood alcohol was over legal limit - way over."

"I appreciate the personal service and attention to my husband's well being." She fixed Cam with a cold hard stare. "Might I inquire what your relationship is with my husband?"

"Booth and I were over long before he met you, Mrs. Booth. You know that."

"I see. As you said, I have been away for a while." She saw over Cam's shoulder that Wendell was hurrying Booth in from the back. He had clearly been outside. His face was flushed and his coat was on. It looked to Bren that he had gone home, showered, shaved and changed into a pressed suit. At least he was beginning to look like the man she remembered. She shook her head slightly enough for Angela who had been listening to the whole conversation to see. She scurried over to give Booth the low down so he could be prepared. He gave his coat to Angela, and rubbed his face with his hands to warm up. He grabbed a glass of scotch that Sweets had at the ready and some cigarettes off the bar and joined them.

"Detective, what brings you to our establishment so late?" He almost wanted to drape an arm around Bren but he wasn't that drunk. In fact he wasn't drunk at all, but he was acting drunk for the cops.

"Were you outside? Cold night."

Booth raised the package of cigarettes to show her and stuffed them into his pocket. "Bad habit, and wouldn't want to break the law and smoke inside."

"No, you wouldn't want to break the law." She didn't believe him. "I understand Heather Taffet was here this evening."

"I believe she was. I can't really say what time."

"It was around ten, wasn't it, dear?" Bren helped.

"I believe it was." Booth wasn't sure if Bren was helping him or not, but he went with it anyway.

"I thought you didn't know Heather Taffet, Mrs. Booth."

"You asked about a relationship between my husband and Ms. Taffet - I assumed you meant sexually. I didn't know of one. I should not have presumed."

"No you should not have." She turned her attention back to Booth. "Where were you between eleven-thirty and twelve-thirty, Mr. Booth?"

"He was here," Bren interrupted.

"I would like him to speak for himself. Booth?"

"As my wife said, I was here. It's a busy night. I was restocking the bar, greeting customers, working, you understand."

"Can anyone other than your wife vouch for that?"

"I assume there are a number of people."

"We will verify that."

"What is this about, Detective?" Bren asked.

"Heather Taffet was shot and killed tonight. It appears she was the targeted, not a random drive by shooting. The shooter was at least seven hundred yards away. A sniper, if you will. You were a sniper in the army, weren't you Mr. Booth?"

"Yes," he said warily. "But I haven't picked up a rifle in years. Not sure I could hit the broad side of a barn." He laughed but it was clear that Booth could take hit a dime at fifteen hundred yards - drunk or sober. "But a shot at three hundred yards doesn't require much skill."

"It was seven hundred and she was in a crowd of people, only she was hit."

"Are you sure she was a target or just collateral damage," Booth suggested.

"One shot, one kill ... isn't that the sniper motto?"

"Not sure we have a motto, but I'll ask at the next Sniper Anonymous meeting."

"Yes, well ... we have some more questions for you, would you come along with us?"

"I'm kind of busy tonight; think we can take this up in the morning?"

"No, we can't."

At that point Caroline interrupted and stopped Booth from being taken down to the station. Cam relented and said that she would stick around and interview some of the patrons. Caroline would sit in on those interviews.

When they were finally alone, Booth turned his attention to Brennan. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you an alibi."

"Do you think I need one? Do you think I am capable of shooting Taffet?"

"I understand Taffet was pressuring you about Hannah Bee. I know you would kill for someone you loved."

Booth's eyes darkened. He stood taller and looked down at her boring his glare into her. She reactively stepped back and he stepped forward. Her back hit the wall. He put a hand up on the wall next to her head and leaned in to keep his voice low. She was unable to get away or look away. "Yes, Bren, I would kill for someone I loved. I would kill, I would die and I would live for someone I loved ... loved beyond myself. But I would not kill for money. I'm sorry you think so little of me. There was a time when you knew me better than I know myself." Bren whimpered at his intensity, his proximity, and he contempt. He turned on his heel and walked away.

She was frozen against the wall. No other man could affect her like he did. He was right. He was one hundred percent right. Bren felt the ache in her gut. The ache she felt every time she thought of him over the past seven months. Like a piece of her had been cut out and the wound would not heal. She wondered if she was right to come back but there was no other option.

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Jared caught up with Booth at the bar. "So, brother, Taffet is dead, eh?" Booth glared at him. "Don't worry. I saw you here all night."

Booth shook his head and looked away.

"And Bren is back too, huh?" Jared cast his gaze across Booth to where Bren was standing still trying to recover from her encounter with Booth. "She's looking good, bro. Lost a little weight, but I like that in a woman. You two going to hook back up, or do you mind if I make a run at her?"

Booth's eyes turned green as he saw Arastoo Vaziri approach Bren and they laughed. "She is all yours, brother." Booth slapped him on the back and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 4

**=|=.A.=|=.L.=|=.T.=|=._.=|=.U.=|=.N.=|=.I.=|=.V.=|=**

The club closed at four in the morning. It was busy until then. Between the news that Bren was back and the shooting of Heather Taffet, the rubber-neckers were out in full force. Booth and Bren stayed out of each other's way. Saroyan and company left at four as well. At four fifteen, Booth with Hannah Bee on his arm announced he was leaving. Bren had no reaction. They made eye contact enough to know that Bren was not welcome at home that night. She had already planned on checking into a hotel. That decision was made five seconds after seeing Booth with his blonde. She tried not to be insulted by his choice, but it was hard not to be. Hannah Bee was so much less than Bren in every way. She went to the office to go over the sales for the night.

Sweets, Daisy, Fisher, Zach, Angela, Hodgins and Vincent Nigel Murray convened at the end of bar.

"Well, what do you make of all of that?" Angela asked.

"A pretty WOW night," Daisy bubbled.

"Too bad I won't be around to see how this plays out," Fisher stated with a grin on his face. "I got picked for Top Chef." Without Bren's oversight and with Booth distracted, Fisher was allowed to change the menu quite a bit. The food cost was outrageous and it was no way profitable for the club, but critics were taking notice. Fisher was becoming a contender in the chef world. A round of congratulations was issued by all except Zach.

"Is this Top Chef: Bar Food edition?" Zach jeered and was subsequently booed.

"You can't go now Fisher," Angela pleaded.

"You and Hodgins were on your way to Paris," Fisher pointed out.

With the success of Hodgins last book, the money he was making and the fact that Angela was the undeniable heroine of the book, Angela found Hodgins much more attractive. It wasn't that she was a gold digger, but she had no plan to be a hostess at a night club for the rest of her life, and there was something about the way the scruffy little writer turned a phrase that turned her on. "Well, maybe we won't."

"Angie," Hodgins exclaimed.

"I said maybe," she wrapped her arm around him and kissed his cheek.

"And you are going back to England," Fisher accused Vincent.

Vincent Nigel Murray looked a little caught. He hadn't told anyone but Fisher his plans. "I'm needed at home to help my dad with the pub, but I haven't bought my ticket yet and I have four brothers and two sisters there helping him already."

"Daisy and I were headed to California," Sweets announced. Daisy didn't look so invested in that plan. Sweets ignored it as he had been for weeks. They had fought so many times about it he had given up caring. She would go or not go. It was up to her. "Taffet got the band an audition with some big record producer out there."

"Guess you aren't going to have to pay her a percentage anymore, huh?"

"Taffet said you were shit."

"Taffet said Hannah Bee was shit, too."

"Well, I have to agree with her there."

"Why do you think she's booked her six nights a week?"

"It isn't her talent and it sure isn't bringing in the business."

"She's cheap?"

"She's easy."

"She needs a pole."

"You mean other than the bosses?"

"What does he see in her? Compared to Mrs. B ..."

"Hannah Bee is everything Brennan is not," Hodgins pointed out. "She's a damsel in distress in need of a big strong knight in shining armor to come save her and she rewards him handsomely."

"That's not it," Sweets stated. "Booth is in a self-destruct mode. When Mrs. B walked away he was lost. Everything he built his world around came crumbing down. The only thing left of the life he created was this night club and an ounce of self-respect. To destroy it would be the final act of destroying that life. A life that was denied him. A life he could no longer have."

The group was silenced for a moment then they all burst out laughing. "Stick to bartending, kid."

"Did you take a Psych 101 class or something?"

"I'm actually right," Sweets protested. "He blames himself for Mrs. B having a hysterectomy effectively ending any chance she would ever have of a bearing a child."

"She blames herself for losing the baby," Angela added. "That's why Mrs. B left."

"They both feel responsible for destroying each other's happiness."

"And why Mr. B has been circling the drain for seven months."

"Well that is just dumb," Daisy pronounced innocently. "Why don't they just talk to each other?"

"The sixty-four thousand dollar question."

"It isn't that easy, Daisy."

"Maybe we should lock them in a room together," Zach stated. Zach had been quiet during the discussion of his boss and her husband. Zach had been quiet for the past seven months. Zach was the only one who believed that Bren would be back and tried to keep running things as she would have. He had been belittled and berated for his belief but he was unshaken. He was unshaken by Booth's constant haranguing, and he was unshaken by Bren's absence. He kept his faith and belief that Mr. and Mrs. B had just hit a rough patch and would find their way back to each other regardless of the mountains of debris between them. And he would wait no matter how many times Mr. Booth fired him.

"Not a bad idea, Zach."

"We would need to keep all sharp objects away from them."

"We should do that anyway."

Wendell came in and motioned for a beer.

"Got the boss and his bimbo all tucked in for the night?"

Wendell drained his beer and motioned for another.

"Wendell, what's up?"

"I lost the boss," he confessed.

"What? You lost the boss?"

"What does that mean?"

"Tonight ... between ten thirty and one I don't know where he was."

"And you think he shot Heather Taffet?"

"I don't know ... it was a pretty bad fight they had earlier and not their first. She said she would sue him and take the club."

"Mr. B is not afraid of anybody, including Heather Taffet."

"He used to be; now he's afraid of his shadow."

"Booth would kill if he had to, but not like that."

"Something like a shooting, a sniper shooting would have to have been planned in advance."

"Don't you think those plans would have been blown out of the water when Bren showed up here today?"

"Maybe she was in on it."

"Maybe they planned this together." Fisher realized how stupid that sounded as soon as he said it.

"So who did it?"

"Taffet had a lot of enemies."

"Enemies that would hire a sniper to take her out? Unlikely."

"I lied for him," Wendell confessed.

"We all lied for him ... and Mrs. B," Angela protested.

"I don't want you to do that," Bren said. They all turned and looked at her. "Booth would not want you to do that."

No one heard her come up. No one could remember what they said last that she might have overheard. She had heard all of it, but wouldn't let on.

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

She sat down at the other end of the bar and nodded toward the scotch. "I think I'm ready for one of those, Mr. Sweets."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Interesting night," she commented after the scotch had slid down her throat. It was the first drink she had taken in over a year. The burn was familiar, safe and a little dangerous. "So," she forced a smile. "Hello to you all."

They murmured hellos.

"I want to apologize. I do apologize. I was in a very bad place for the past eight months and it took me a while to get my head on straight. But I'm back now. And I want to make this place a success. Bring it back to the way it was ... better for all of us." She held up a stack of invoices. "It won't be easy. In the interest of full disclosure, we are in the red, some pretty dark red, but I promise you we will always make payroll. I realize that I don't know all that has been going on here, or what has been happening with each of you. I want to rectify that. I want us to be ... to be a family again. Yes, even you Mr. Hodgins. The spotlight you put on the club should not have been wasted. I take responsibility for that."

"Well, we have another murder," he smiled. "I smell a sequel."

"Good." She smiled sadly. It wasn't good. It was horrible. A woman was killed. Booth was a suspect. Her employees were lying to protect him. She was lying to protect him. And it was a better than even bet he didn't need protecting. As for Booth and Bren running the club together? A pipe dream at best. It was a pretty deep hole they had to climb out of and with two people are fighting against each other it would make it that much harder. She and Booth were not a team, at least not yet. "Can I count on you?"

Fisher stood up. "I have been invited to appear on the next Top Chef. I would be away for a minimum of ten weeks, but if I win -." There was chuckling. "Even if I don't, it will still bring attention to the club."

"That will help."

"Ange and I were going to Paris to find inspiration for my next book, but I think there is enough inspiration right here."

"Great."

"Lance and his band are going to California to meet with a big record producer," Daisy said snidely.

"Well, I mean," Sweets stumbled over his words. "It hasn't been ... I mean I don't have the actually date for the audition, but ..."

"I wish you much success."

"I'm sure we will be sticking around for a while anyway."

All eyes fell to Vincent Nigel Murray. "What?" he protested. "I'm not going anywhere. Not now, want to see this band get put back together."

Zach should have said something but he didn't. He kept his eyes on Brennan. Of all the people she left she knew Zach would take it the worst - well other than Booth.

"Zach?" she called to him. "I'm sorry Zach. I know you have been shouldering a lot more than you should have had to. Let me take that off your shoulders and we can get back to doing things the way they used to be done."

Zach nodded.

"Now, let's lock up and get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

The crew disbanded each going home with lifted but guarded spirits. Brennan stayed until the last one was out. She looked around the darkened club. She was home. It had fallen on some pretty hard times, but she was finally home. It was going to need a lot more than a coat of paint to get it back to its glory.

She was just about to turn out the last night and exit. She looked up to the cat walk. Booth was there watching her. Clearly he had been there the whole time. He had no reaction for her. She nodded to him. He nodded back. She clicked off the last light and went out locking the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 5

**=|=.A.=|=.L.=|=.T.=|=._.=|=.U.=|=.N.=|=.I.=|=.V.=|=**

Booth arrived at the club late the next morning; still earlier than he had in months. Bren's car was already parked in the back as were the rest of the crew's. He thought about turning around and going home but refused to allow her to chase him away. The coffee was on as he passed the kitchen and there were the remains bagels and fruit on the line. It was something she used to do in the past. She would bring some version of breakfast when it was going to be a long day. He grabbed a cup of coffee and a banana. He climbed the stairs slowly wondering what he would say to her; what they would say to each other. He avoided eye contact with the staff who were there deep cleaning the place.

"Getting an early start," he said sliding into the guest chair in front of the desk.

She looked up and studied him for a moment. He was clean shaven and his clothes were cleaned and pressed. Not at all the man she saw the day before. "I wasn't expecting you until later this afternoon."

"No, no … not at all. Not after that little pep talk you gave the troops last night. I'm ready and raring to go." Sarcasm was dripping from every pore.

"So you heard that."

"Yes, yes. Very stirring, very inspiring. And I heard something that sounded a lot like an apology." He stood up and moved to his chair on other side of the room. "And wondered why I didn't rate one."

She put her pen down. "I'm sorry, Booth."

"Not accepted."

She picked up her pen again and went back to work.

"If you think you're going to wear me down, you're sadly mistaken," he went on.

"I don't have any plan on wearing you down."

"What is your plan?"

"To be honest and fair and to try to atone for my … mistakes."

"Well at least you admit that there was more than one."

She put the pen back down. Folded her hands in front of her on the desk and fixed her eyes on his. "I have made many mistakes particularly with you and I am truly sorry for each and everyone. I hope one day to gain your understanding if not your forgiveness."

He snorted a laugh.

"But in the mean time I own half of this club, it's apparently all that I have left, and I won't let you drag it down into the gutter. Well any further into the gutter."

Booth looked uncomfortable.

"You were never good at managing the books."

"That was your job."

"Yes, yes it is. So, I need to know where the hundred and fifty thousand dollars went." She held up several canceled checks made out to cash.

Booth knew exactly what she was talking about. He didn't realize it totaled one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That was a little daunting. "Expenses," was his explanation.

"You'll need to be a little more specific. The IRS will want to know."

"This isn't about taxes, Bren."

"No, it's not." She didn't like to think what she was thinking. And she didn't want to ask what she had to. After her accusation of murder the night before, this question would further prove how far apart they had grown. "Are you gambling again?"

His eyes grew dark and stormy. She had her answer; a resounding NO. It had been a bone of contention between them at the start of their relationship. It nearly ended them before they got started and there were several times after when Bren got close to calling the whole thing off. But he had had it under control for years. She was sorry she asked.

It was that moment than Hannah Bee decided to make her next personal appearance. "Hey, Boothy," she cooed sauntering in, dropping down on to his lap. She gave him a sloppy wet kiss and proceeded to wipe the lipstick off with her thumb. "Missed you this morning, Babe. But your present made up for it." She held up a diamond bracelet that dangled from her wrist. "You should have stayed so I could thank you proper-like." She kissed him again.

Booth hadn't taken his eyes of Bren's during Hannah's entire display. He didn't return her kiss. He put his hands on her waist and pushed her up and off his lap. "I need a few minutes here, babe," he said.

Hannah turned her attention to Bren as if were the first she noticed that she was in the room. "What's she still doing here? You told me she won't be sticking around."

"Guess I was wrong about that too." He unceremoniously pushed her toward the door. "Go on. I'll be right there."

Hannah left reluctantly. Booth still glared at Bren.

"Expenses, huh?" she sighed. "All hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Including the fifteen you pulled yesterday?"

"Put it down as talent costs," he sneered.

"I'll still need receipts."

Booth waved her off and started to leave.

"Booth!" she called to him.

He turned slowly back around.

"Will you file, or shall I?"

"File?"

"The paperwork."

"What paperwork?'

"The divorce ... I assume you will be wanting one."

He shook his head and sighed. "You do it. You're the Queen of Paperwork." He left.

Bren leaned back in her chair and willed the tears not to come. She was convinced she had lost him and she had no one to blame but herself. The worst part was she didn't lose him to Hannah. He didn't love her; he didn't even really like her - that much was obvious. But there was so much anger directed at Bren that he would pretend that he did. She began to wonder if coming back was such a good idea.

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Lunch with Arastoo Vaziri was what she expected. He wanted to buy her half of the club and the price had dropped considerably. She naturally refused. Her reason for agreeing to meet with him was that she wanted him to invest in the club for a percentage of the door and receipts until it was paid off at a very handsome interest rate. He was not interested. He countered with a plan to buy Booth's share of the club and work with her. She stated that as far as she knew, Booth's half was not up for sale. Vaziri had nothing nice to say about Booth and regaled Bren with stories of Booth's antics since she had been away. Bren took all his information with a grain of salt and showed no outward sign of surprise or interest. Inside her guts were being ripped out. She blamed herself - a little too much.

Vaziri walked her back from the diner to the club and followed her inside. There was nothing left to talk about as far as Bren was concerned, but he kept talking, cooing, cajoling.

"Have dinner with me, Bren," he said.

"No, thank you."

"Are you going to make an excuse and say you have to work?"

"I don't need an excuse. I do not wish to pursue a personal relationship with you, and we don't have any business to discuss."

"Your marriage is over. There is no need to be loyal to a man who clearly isn't loyal to you."

"Mr. Vaziri, I have been quite clear. I suggested a business arrangement that you have rejected and I have accepted your rejection. Please accept mine."

Vaziri stepped closer to her taking her hand. "We would be very good together," he said softly. "Very good."

Bren saw Booth watching them from the cat walk. She smiled brightly at Vaziri and pulled her hand away. She knew very well that irrespective of Booth's anger at her, he would most definitely leap to her defense if he thought she was in trouble and given his state of anger, he could do some serious damage to Vaziri and she didn't want him brought up on assault charges. "Mr. Vaziri, please leave and if you can't respect my wishes, you are not welcome in this club."

"I have waited this long for you, Bren. I can wait longer. You'll come around."

She nodded to the door. He left. Bren caught Booth's eye she saw anger and hate. "Do I have a new partner?" he called down to her.

She shook her head but didn't respond otherwise. She started up the stairs to the office. Booth disappears down the back way. She wondered if Zach was right. Maybe they should get locked in a room. They might actually hash it all out. Booth clearly had things to say and Bren needed to hear it. She had a few things to say too.

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Bren's return was felt by the staff the second night. There were lots of changes with the menu, the pricing, the stocking, the table arrangements, etc. She was in full blown owner mode. The biggest change that was felt in all corners of the club was that Bren had replaced Hannah Bee's ten, eleven and midnight sets with Sweets and his band. Hannah Bee didn't take it very well. She also didn't take Booth not arguing for her very well. Booth just sat back and watched the show with an amused smile on his face.

"Just what gives you the right?" Hannah screeched. Her yelling voice had the same effect as her singing voice - nails on a blackboard.

"I own this club, Ms Bee and I get to make these types of decisions."

"Boothy owns this club; you are just the wife - soon to be ex-wife. If he says I can sing, then I can sing."

Bren turned her attention toward Booth as did Hannah. He shrugged and smiled.

"Boothy?" she whined. "Baby?"

Booth didn't respond.

"You can't do this!" Hannah exclaimed. 

"I can and I have." Bren stood up. "You have been engaged here for four months. In that time receipts have gone down sixty percent. You clearly haven't acquired a following. You might want to consider other hobbies you would like to pursue - outside this club."

"I have a hobby, lady," she snared. "Keeping your husband happy, since you aren't up to the job."

"Are you calling yourself a prostitute, Ms Bee?"

"I ain't no whore," Hannah Bee screeched.

"Taking money in exchange for sex is the definition of a prostitute, Ms Bee. You cannot deny that the club is paying you a rather large salary and is supplementing that salary with gifts." She nodded toward the bracelet.

"This was from Boothy," she protested and clutched the braceleted arm to her chest. "A gift ... of love."

Bren could hardly help but roll her eyes at Hannah's baby talk. It skived her out. "Paid for with the club's money, Ms Bee," she said evenly. She glanced over at Booth to see if he would take up the argument. He didn't. "Judging by the receipts at the door, it cannot be for your talent. So I have to assume your _**talent**_ lies elsewhere."

"HEY."

"Unless you were implying that you were keeping my husband happy in some other way, though I can't imagine that you and he could have anything else in common. You are certainly not his intellectual equal; I doubt you debate politics, religion or morality. You clearly aren't helping with the business. From what I have witnessed there is little or no conversation between you ... verbally. So prostitute is a reasonable assumption on my part."

"Boothy, are you going to let her talk to me like that?"

"Bren don't call Hannah a whore," he said with very little emotion.

"I have a contract; you can't keep me from singing."

"You don't have a contract; you have something less than a verbal agreement - a non-verbal agreement. Pillowtalk will not hold up in court, Ms Bee." Brennan leaned back in her chair. "You still have your set at nine and again at one. I will expect you prepped and dressed by nine. Now if you will excuse me."

Hannah looked back and forth between Bren and Booth. Getting no satisfaction she stormed out ranting and raving the whole way.

Booth sat up and tossed the magazine he was holding down on the table. He smiled and stood up.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked snidely.

"Was hoping for some hair pulling and scratching, but it was good for a first round."

"Does there have to be a second?"

"Of course - a fifteen round title match. Maybe we can turn the stage in to a boxing ring and really let you two go at it. That ought to bring in the crowds. We could take bets."

She just looked disappointed. "I have an appointment to keep."

"Your lover?"

"The bank."

"Like I said." Booth slipped out and made his escape down the back stairs, his new route. He wasn't seen again until after midnight.

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

At one fifteen Detective Saroyan made her second appearance at the club in as many nights. Bren again met her at the door.

"Can we help you detective?"

"You can tell me where I can find your husband."

Bren nodded to the cat walk. "He's watching the floor, has been all night."

Cam nodded to the uniforms behind her to go get Booth. "Giving him an alibi already, Mrs. Booth?"

"Has something happened?"

"Why don't you tell me about your relationship with Arastoo Vaziri?"

"We don't have a relationship."

"Business or sexual?"

"Neither."

"You had lunch with him today."

"Yes."

"What did you discuss?"

"What is this about?"

"I'll ask the questions, Mrs. Booth. What did you discuss?"

"He wanted to buy my share of the club; I told him it was not for sale."

"It took you all lunch to say that?"

"I don't have a transcript of the meeting. I believed we discussed the food at the diner for some minutes, shall I tell you his opinion of the tuna salad?"

"No, thank you. Were you aware that Vaziri paid off your debts this afternoon?"

"I don't understand the question."

"I have receipts that prove that Vaziri paid off your vendors to the tune of twenty-eight thousand dollars. I'd like to know what you offered him in exchange for such generosity."

"I'd like to know that too," Booth stated.

Both women turned to him. He was flanked by the uniformed officers.

"Mr. Booth, you're coming with me. We have some questions for you about the murder of Heather Taffet and Arastoo Vaziri."

"Vaziri?"

"Yes, Mr. Vaziri was shot to death tonight in another sniper type shooting."

"There are other snipers in the world, detective."

"True, but none of them had the motive to want both Heather Taffet and Arastoo Vaziri dead."


	6. Chapter 6

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 6

**=|=.A.=|=.L.=|=.T.=|=._.=|=.U.=|=.N.=|=.I.=|=.V.=|=**

Saroyan questioned Booth all morning. By three AM Caroline Julian was there which only slowed the wheels of justice. By dawn Caroline got Booth released for lack of evidence. Saroyan promised to get all the evidence she needed and warned him not to leave town.

"Very dramatic, Detective."

Caroline's attitude changed once they were outside and safely away from prying ears. "What's wrong with you?"

"What?"

"Get your sand together, cher."

"You think I killed Taffet and Vaziri?"

"I think you're capable of it."

"Because of the club? For money?"

"I don't know. I don't understand you anymore. This thing you have with the singer is beyond me. She must be one hell of a roll in the hay for you to give up so much for her."

"I didn't kill Taffet."

"What about Vaziri?"

"Why would I? Because he wanted to screw my wife? If I killed all the men that wanted to screw my wife, there would be bodies lined up around town."

"No need to be crude, cher."

"Look, I'll prove to you that I don't care what my wife does or who. Draw up divorce papers. I don't care what you use as cause, abandonment or infidelity ... whatever it takes. Write them up and I'll sign them today."

"That won't prove a damned thing other than you're a fool, but I knew that already."

"And I want a written contract for Hannah ... I'll be her manager."

"Now you're a damned fool.

"Caroline."

"You have two murder charges hanging over your head and you are asking for a divorce and a contract for a third rate singer who couldn't carry a tune in a bucket? You're not a fool; you've done lost your mind."

"I didn't do it Caroline."

"You don't need to convince me, cher. You need to convince twelve of your peers and from where I'm sitting you don't stand a snowball's chance in hell."

"They have no proof."

"They'll find some, trust me. They have crime scene investigators, forensic accountants, psychiatrists and anthropologists. They have entomology, pathology, and every other 'ology and they will find evidence. Or they will find enough to make a case and sink you so deep into a hole that you will never climb out."

"I didn't do it."

"You keep saying that, cher, maybe someone will be believe you." Caroline turned and started walking away.

"What about the divorce?"

She turned and fixed him with a glare. "I'll be no part of that trash, cheri. You love that woman and she loves you. You two belong together - if only to save the rest of the world. I don't care how much damage you do to each other, I've never seen two people who were better together and so self-destructive apart. No one could come between you except your own stupid selves. Yeah, you lost a baby. Yeah, she can't have another one. So what? The world is full of disappointments. Get over it! Stop taking bloody chunks out of each other and stand still long enough to have a conversation. I'd never believe how low you sunk, Booth. A lounge singer and a bad one at that? That's not you. You don't make choices with your Johnson. At least your wife had the sense God gave a goat to remove herself from the battlefield when it got too much for her. And you want to hold that against her? Fool, damned fool, damned prideful fool. Pride is your biggest fault - get over that too. She is back now. Clean up your shit and get it together. You have some serious stuff coming down on your head. You could be facing a needle in your arm. You need her; if for no other reason than to present a stable man at trial."

A reflection caught Booth's eye, like a reflection off a scope. It was coming from the seventh floor of the building across the street. There was a laser target on Caroline's forehead. Booth stepped between the reflection and Caroline and pushed her around the corner to safety.

"What the hell, Booth?"

"I'm not the shooter Caroline, but someone is trying to make it look like I am."

"Fool," she said and started to walk around on the street.

"No," he pulled her back. "Go the other way." He directed her down the alley.

"Did you hear a damn thing I said?"

He looked back across the street to the building. "Every word."

"And."

"Would like you to draw up the divorce papers, site infidelity as the cause and have them in my office by this afternoon. Would also like a contract for Hannah Bee."

Caroline shook her head. "Not my area."

"It's exactly your area."

"Not anymore, I quit - at least until you pull your head out of your ass." She stormed away.

Booth leaned against the building, his mind was spinning. Who was out to frame him? How far would he go? Who had the skill needed? For the most part these two shootings were first level. It could be anyone. Could be Max Keenan - or some guy he hired. It could be anyone. If it was really someone who was trying to frame him or get his attention, he would have to tip his hand sooner rather than later. If it was someone who Max hired, all bets were off. But why would Mac want to frame him? And why now?

=**|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Booth went home and slept for several hours or tried to. The sniper issue was making him toss and turn, but the things Caroline said about Bren were spinning around in his head too. He finally got up and looked around the apartment. It had been de-Brenized. Two days after she left, he has all her stuff packed up and stored at the club. The apartment still looked like a hurricane had gone through it. He was a bad housekeeper and a worse homemaker. Hannah never came to the apartment, if they slept together, he went to her. He normally left before dawn to go home to sleep. She never complained.

The baby stuff was in boxes by the door. He had meant to donate them, but he just never seemed to get around to it. Now they were covered with clothes and mail that he never opened. He sunk down on to the couch and thought back to that fateful day when he found Bren on the floor of the kitchen. He had never seen so much blood in his life. She looked so pale, so blue, so … dead. He really thought he had lost her. He could barely dial 911 or speak to the person on the other end. Booth was normally good in crisis. That was his thing. Bren never got hysterical either, but she wasn't moving. She wasn't saying anything at all. The EMTs refused to let him ride in the ambulance with her. He was so out of it, he didn't fight. He jumped in his car with his blood soaked clothes and drove to the hospital. His car would never be the same. At the time it was the furthest thing from his mind. When he knew Bren would live the stains were just something minor to deal with. After Bren left they were the constant reminder of all that he lost. He refused to do anything about them. Hannah had made comments about them often, so often that if they drove anywhere together, they took her car.

Booth refused to talk to Hannah about Bren. He refused to talk to anyone, but Hannah was the only one dumb enough to ask. He wondered why he started with Hannah. I sure as hell wasn't for love. It wasn't really his idea. She came on to him and he had no good reason to refuse her. He knew she was a C grade singer. That she would never amount to anything. Caroline was right, wanting her contract was prideful. He would never get his money back.

The money - one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. How had it gotten to be so much? And where did it all go? Most went to pay the hospital bills the percentage that the insurance wouldn't cover - which was more than he expected. Booth was insulted when he got the bill. It was about a week after Bren left. Doctor's costs, ICU costs, Neonatal costs ... it all added up and what did Booth have to show for it? Nothing. They had no personal money. All they had was tied up in the club. So, the club paid. If Bren were there they would have figured something else out, but he couldn't deal with making payments on a wife and baby he didn't have. Then taking money from the club seemed easy. He had to believe that Hannah's costs (clothes, costumes, whatever) really didn't add up to that much, but he had no proof of that - it was all done with cash. The bracelet was something he had bought for Bren to give her after the baby was born. He had no idea what possessed him to give it to Hannah the day Bren returned. Spiteful. But he couldn't keep it anymore and he certainly couldn't give it to Bren ... ever. He had kept it in his pocket since the day the baby died. Yesterday after his conversation with Bren he didn't want it any more. He needed to get rid of it. Hannah was there; better than throwing it in the trash - but essentially the same. It had no meaning for him anymore.

The biggest chunk of that money and other money that Bren hadn't noticed yet went to Max. He finally started making the pay offs. That was exactly how low he had sunk. He could barely look at himself in the mirror anymore. But the club was dying fast. There was no money to make payoff. He couldn't pay his vendors, he was about to lay off his employees. So he stopped several weeks back; Max put on a lot of pressure as did Jared. But no money was no money – blood from a stone and all. But he couldn't get himself to believe that Max would frame him for murder, for two murders just for stopping the payoffs - stopping payoff that he swore he never would make.

He sat up and looked around the apartment. He had trashed his life. He had done that. No one else. He thought back to the weeks after, when Bren was home recovering. Was he supportive? Did he understand? Had they grieved together? Did they even talk about it? The answer was no. He worked and she slept. When they were together he tried to pretend like things were normal, but every time she shrunk away from his touch, stiffened when he spooned up behind her in bed, or didn't meet his eye it was another brick in the wall that divided them. If he were truly honest he felt relief the day she left. A sad, sick, lonely relief but he couldn't help her. He didn't know how. She didn't tell him.

And now she was back. She was ready to talk but he wasn't able to listen. He was too angry, he was too ashamed.

Just then someone slipped a manila envelope under his door. He crossed to get it. He opened the door to see if he could see who it was, but whoever it was, was gone. Inside the envelope were pictures; long range pictures, pictures that a sniper would take with sight lines, angles and targets. They were all of Bren: Taffet walking by Bren's car taken two days before, Bren and Vaziri walking back from the diner, Bren and Caroline taken outside the club that morning, Bren and Saroyan taken two nights ago inside the club. Then there were pictures of Bren in places he didn't recognize: the desert, the beach, on the freeway, at a gas station. These were all dated over the past three weeks. Booth heart began to race. He studied one picture of Bren on a beach with a man. He recognized him but couldn't place him. There was a second shot of them together. They were embracing. Then a final shot of them walking down the beach hand in hand. There was a target drawn on Bren's chest. Booth flipped the photo over. In bold red ink was written: "She broke your heart, I will break hers." The date on the photo was six days ago. She said she was in New Mexico, but the picture was taken on a tropical beach. He studied the man. A slow realization came over him. It was Timmy, Timmy Sullivan. The man she almost married. The man Booth stole her away from.

Booth couldn't focus on Bren, a lover she may or may not have, or the truth of where she had been for the past seven months. All that mattered was that she was being targeted by some person who clearly knew Booth. He had to get to her.

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Bren and Timmy sat at the bar talking.

"I'm glad you came," she said pressing his hand warmly.

He smiled slightly, "are you ... glad you came?"

She nodded easily. "I am. I haven't given up on him yet. I haven't given up on us."

"You can forgive him all this? And that singer?"

"Yes," she said. "Yes, this was all my fault. I never should have left."

"Booth needs to take responsibility for his own mess. He didn't need to implode or destroy the club."

"They club is far from destroyed, and he acted out. I acted out. He has always been more proactive than I am. I tend to withdraw, he tends to act. I understand. He doesn't love her."

"You're more forgiving that I could be."

"I love him, Tim. I truly love him. And love is about forgiveness, acceptance. It's unconditional - at least it should be. I forgot that. I forgot to love myself, forgive me for all that happened. You helped me see that. I will never forget that."

"I was just in the right place at the right time."

"You are a friend, a good friend. Better than I have been to you."

"Not true, Bren." He drained his glass. "I should get out of here. Really wanted to see Booth, but maybe it's too soon."

"You'll come back?"

"I'll be in town for a few more days ... and then back in a month. Don't worry; I won't let another five years get between us. And if Booth doesn't get his shit together ..."

"He will. We will. We'll get through this."

"And you're sure he's not the sniper."

"You know he's not."

"Yeah, not his style."

Bren walked him out.

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Booth walked down the street. He was a long block away. He saw Bren and a man leave the club. It was Sullivan. Booth wasn't shocked to see him; in fact he was expecting him. It was no wonder Bren brought up the D word. He touched the photos in his pocket. He needed to show them to Bren to let her know what kind of danger she was in. He wouldn't confront her about Sullivan, but something had to be said. She would have to know that he knew.

He watched as they hugged. They looked so comfortable with each other. Booth couldn't tear his eyes away. The pain in his heart ached. Were they finally over? Would they ever be over? How could he attempt to get her back after the mess he made?

Booth watched in amazement as Sullivan lurched forward shoving Bren into the wall. They both fell to the ground, Sullivan covering Bren. Booth ran toward them. He saw the blood. A lot of blood. So much blood. Too much blood.

He pulled Sullivan back off of Bren. Her eyes were closed, she wasn't moving. She was covered in blood. "BREN!"


	7. Chapter 7

Nothing Changes Unless Second A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 7

**=|=.A.=|=.L.=|=.T.=|=._.=|=.U.=|=.N.=|=.I.=|=.V.=|=**

"BREN!"

People started rushing out of the club when they heard Booth cry out.

"Get an ambulance."

"Call 911."

"I need something to stop the blood."

"We should get off the street."

"Get those people out of the alley."

"Bren." Booth cried. He pulled her into his arms and cradled her. "Oh God, Bren. Please, God please. Bren." He felt her move in his arms. He looked down and her eyes fluttered open. "You're alive!" He pressed her to him and she cried out. "Where are you hurt?"

"My arm," she groaned. "And my head."

He released her enough to inspect her. She was hit in the arm; a graze by the exiting round. Her head had a lump growing on it. "You must have hit the wall." He looked up at the wall above her. He saw where the round had lodged in the brick. She could have been killed. She would have been killed but for luck. Or was it?

"What happened?" she asked trying to sit up. Then she noticed the blood. "What happened?" she asked again with much more urgency. "Timmy?"

They both looked over at Sullivan. He was dead. The exit wound on his chest was evidence enough.

"Oh No … No … no … what's going on?" She looked at Booth expecting him to have an answer.

Booth was dumb; but he didn't need to find a response. The EMTs arrived with the police. It would be chaos for a while. He would deny witnessing the event. He really didn't see much.

=**|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Booth watched them load Bren up in the ambulance and take her away – it was déjà vu except this time she was conscious. He didn't leave her side and would have forced them to allow him to ride in the ambulance with her but Saroyan had some questions. Booth had no answers. He saw Hannah across the crowd. He had no idea how long she was there, nor did he care. From the look on her face, she must have witnessed enough to know how he felt about Bren. He didn't make eye contact with her. He knew there would be a final scene between them. He would say as little as possible, she would have a lot more to say and then it would be over.

Booth didn't tell Saroyan about the pictures that were sent to him. They were meant for him alone. It was personal. It was someone Booth knew taking revenge on him. He would figure it out.

Wendell came to him when he was standing alone for a moment. "Mr. Booth, some guy gave this to me to give to you." He tried to hand him an envelope.

"Wendell, please."

"The man said it was important – vital was the word he used."

"What man?"

Wendell looked out into the crowd and pointed to a tall man standing in the back. He was wearing a ball cap, sunglasses and an overcoat. Booth really couldn't get a good look at him but he was familiar. The man gave a half salute toward Booth and ducked out of sight. A sick feeling came over Booth. He knew who it was. That salute told him all he needed to know. Booth opened the envelope. There was a note on plain white paper. "One shot, one kill. No mistakes. Paybacks are a bitch, Boothy Boy." He looked back into the crowd but the man was gone. "Broadsky," Booth muttered under his breath. Booth knew what he wanted and why.

Booth was dragged down to the police station again. He was grilled for hours. When Saroyan got information that Sullivan was Bren's ex, she had jealousy as a motive again and no alibi. With three dead all revolving around Booth he was their best person of interest.

"I didn't have anything to do with this," he protested.

"You may not have pulled the trigger, but you're certainly involved. You were a sniper, you have sniper friends. You could have called in a favor to keep your nose clean. I don't know how you did it yet, but I'm not letting you out of here until I know what you know."

Caroline finally came. She asked to speak to Booth in private. He told Caroline about the photos and about the note.

"Did you tell the cops?" Caroline asked.

"No."

"You're withholding evidence, Booth. They can throw you in jail for that."

"They won't be able to catch him. This is between him and me."

She studied him for a moment. "You know who it is," she accused.

Booth nodded but stayed silent.

"So tell me, cheri, so I can start building your defense."

"It's a guy I knew in the Gulf. A sniper."

"I gathered that. Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Ok, say you're right, how about a name and a motive."

"Broadsky, Jacob Broadsky. Motive?" Booth laughed. "I put him in Leavenworth fifteen years ago."

"For what?"

"He killed civilians. He was given a target, but usually took out a few others as well. Once he killed a three year old boy and a baby as they sat in the target's lap."

"Collateral damage?"

"No. He was a crack shot – better than me, better than anyone. He took out the baby first, then the child, and finally the target. It was sadistic. He wanted the target to know that his kids were dead first."

"So what did you do to piss him off?"

"I turned him in. I testified at his trial. I testified at his sentencing."

"And now he's out."

"Apparently."

"And not rehabilitated."

"Apparently not." He turned to Caroline. "He wants me."

"He wants to make you suffer, cheri. He wants you in jail. You go after him, you kill him … he will get that. You don't go after him, you go down for these murders, he gets that too."

"He won't stop, Caroline." He thrust most of the pictures at her. "He's going after Bren. He has been following her for months. He followed her back here to me."

"Why didn't he just kill her before she got home?"

Booth swallowed hard. "He wants me to see her die."

"He tried to kill her today?"

"No, he didn't. If he wanted her dead, she would be dead."

"Is he that good?" Booth nodded. "Why?"

"Because he wants the credit. I didn't know who it was until now. He knows that I know ... and now she is in real danger."

"Let's get some people on this … I know someone at the FBI. They're discrete."

"As discrete as a sledgehammer," he snapped. "Let me handle this."

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Caroline got Booth released again against her better judgment. There was nothing to hang on him. No physical evidence. Booth left and let Caroline deal with Saroyan. He needed to get to Bren.

Bren was still in the ER. The doctor's were concerned that she had lost consciousness. She was waiting for an MRI. Angela was staying with her. She left when Booth walked in.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she responded.

"OK?"

She wanted to stay strong but couldn't. She broke down. He sat down on the bed and pulled her into his arms and held her. "I'm sorry," he kept repeating softly into her hair.

She finally calmed herself. "Who's doing this, Booth?" It was rhetorical question. She was surprised when he had an answer.

"His name is Jacob Broadsky."

"Jacob? Jake? Jake Broadsky?"

Booth was confused. "Yeah, he was called Jake."

"I know him. I met him in New Mexico. He was staying near where I was. He was the one who convinced me to come home. He was the one who convinced me that no matter what had gone on between us our marriage was worth saving."

"You talked to him? You talked to him about me?"

"Yes."

"Did you use my name?"

"Yes, no, maybe ... no ... I don't think I did. I don't think I told him my name."

"When did you meet him?"

"I met him about a month ago. He was gentle. He was kind. He seemed to know me so well – know us. We talked several times."

"He was stalking you, Bren." Booth showed her the pictures. "He was using you to get to me."

She was confused. "Why? I don't understand."

Booth told her the history between them. "He will kill you next, Bren. He will kill you in front of me if I can't get to him first."

She looked panicked. "No. You can't."

"He won't kill me Bren. He doesn't want me dead. He wants me to suffer like he did."

"How do you know all this?"

"I know the man. His wife divorced him when he went to prison. She and their son were killed in a home invasion." Booth had struggled with the guilt of that for longer than a decade. He looked at Bren. She looked so weak, so fail, so helpless. "Nothing will happen to you. I promise you that."

He couldn't make that kind of promise any more than he could protect his unborn son from harm. There were things in this world that were beyond a person's control. It was stupid to allow the things you can't control to make you make bad decisions. "Bren, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I've been such a fool."

"Don't."

"Please ... let me say this ... let me tell you ... I never stopped loving you, that you're my only strength, my only reason for living. I'm nothing without you. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I couldn't help you through ... help us through ... I'm sorry."

"Booth, stop. Please stop. You did nothing wrong."

"How can you say that? I trashed our marriage vows. I nearly bankrupt the club. I have been mean and hateful and spiteful."

"We have both made mistakes," she pressed.

Booth's eye caught the picture of Bren and Sullivan on the beach embracing. He looked down. Bren looked over at the pictures and understood what he thought he saw.

"Don't do that Booth. Don't think you know something when you don't. I thought I knew what was best for you and it only brought each of us more pain and heartache. I thought leaving was the best thing I could do for you."

"How could you think that?"

"I knew how much you wanted a child."

"Our child ... I wanted our son ... a child means nothing to me if I lost you."

"I can't give you that ... I can't give you a son."

"I'm sorry for that too. That's my fault."

"Is that what you think?" She was aghast. "You think I blame your for that?"

"You said you would have rather died."

"I was out of my head with drugs and hormones. And I saw that look in your eye. That look that said you lost all you ever wanted."

"No ... I was devastated that I had to be the one to make that decision for you ... I took something from you that could never be replaced."

"You saved my life, Booth," she protested. "I lost our son."

"I never blamed you for that."

"OK, OK ... We have to stop this." She took his hand. "Can we stop ... can we agree to talk to each other? To not assume anything?"

"Yes ... yes." He leaned into her and let his lips touch hers lightly. He felt her lean into him harder. He took her in his arms and held her tightly. "Promise you will never leave me again."

"I promise - to the extent that I can promise, from what I can control, but I can't control everything."

He almost smiled - she was so literal. "Ok." He leaned back to look at her and kissed her again. For the first time in nearly a year he felt that life could be good again. He released his hold on her. She smiled back at him.

"Whatever you do with Broadsky, you're not doing it alone - OK? Check me out of here."

"They need to do an MRI. No chances, OK?"

"Ok." Her eye drifted to the picture of her and Timmy on the beach.

"I'm sorry about Sullivan," Booth said earnestly.

"He didn't deserve to die." She looked up at him. "He was your biggest advocate - our biggest advocate. Told me I was a fool for leaving you. Told me to go home and face the music. Told me that I should ask for your forgiveness and accept nothing less."

"Why did you go to him?"

"I didn't. He found me. Said that he contacted the club and found out that I was gone and came and found me."

"But how did you get to the beach."

"That picture isn't real ... it has been altered. Sully came to see me two weeks ago."

"So you didn't go to him ... you didn't ... I have no right to ask."

"You do and I didn't."

"I'm sorry Bren."

"We need to stop saying that."

"Why did you stay away so long? Why did it take someone from outside to send you home?"

"At first I wanted to come back. I didn't actually leave town for more than a week. When I finally did leave I missed you like crazy. I called you."

"I know, but you never spoke."

"I didn't know what to say. After a while I was too afraid to come back. I knew how angry you would be."

"Did you expect me to follow you? To find you?"

"No, I didn't expect it but if you had, I would have refused you nothing. The longer I was away, the longer I didn't hear from you, I assumed that I was right to leave. I had heard that you moved on."

"Heard? Moved on? With Hannah?" Bren nodded. "I don't love Hannah. She means nothing to me."

"She means something to you Booth; you gave her a bracelet that you bought for me."

He leaned back. "Do you know everything?"

"I keep the books; I know how you spend your money - that is until you started taking it out in cash. I assumed that was why."

"Some things you need to pay cash for," he said sheepishly.

"Max?" Booth nodded. "Why?"

"I just didn't care anymore and he was putting serious pressure on. I figured paying him was easier."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I never should have left you alone."

"How did you find out about Hannah?"

"Angela."

"She knew where you were?"

"I left a forwarding address."

"Not with me."

"I left a forwarding address," she repeated implying that he could have found her if he wanted to.

The nurse came into take Bren up to get her MRI. It would take an hour or two. Booth said he would be back. This time he kissed her good bye. He told her he loved her and promised that everything would be OK. She said she believed him, but there was fear behind her eyes. She told him to be careful.


	8. Chapter 8

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 8

**=|=.A.=|=.L.=|=.T.=|=._.=|=.U.=|=.N.=|=.I.=|=.V.=|=**

Booth went to the club to get his weapon out of the safe. He had to field a lot of questions from his people. Without saying it directly, they all knew that Booth and Bren were back - maybe not officially yet, but soon. He tucked the weapon into his pants and went to deal with Hannah.

He walked into her dressing room and she was _**in flagrante delicto **_with C Sync. Booth just laughed.

C Sync laughed too. "Meet my new talent."

"Did you get a contract?"

"Signed and filed ... we were just sealing the deal now."

"Good." He looked at Hannah who was not at all impressed with Booth's lack of interest. "Hannah Bee, you're fired."

"Hey."

"I don't book C Sync's talent in this club," Booth cut her off. "Get your shit and get out, before we open." Booth left.

On his way out the door he met Caroline.

"I have those papers you asked for, cheri."

Booth took them from her. Opened the ones for Hannah's contract. He handed them back, "C Sync beat me to it ... hope he got a better deal." He looked at the one for the divorce. It stilled his heart to see his name and Bren's name on a Bill of Divorcement. He tore them in half and then again and tossed them in the gutter. "Thanks, Caroline." He walked away.

She smiled. "I'm still charging you for my time, cheri."

"Would expect nothing less," he called back over his shoulder.

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Booth headed home. He was still covered in blood; some Sullivan's some Bren's. He needed to shower and change and then he would find Broadsky. Bren was safe as long as she was in the hospital and not with him. Why Booth believed that was nothing short of wishful thinking. He had to believe it or he never could have left her side.

The door to his apartment was slightly ajar.

He pulled his weapon and wished he had his second and third clip. He would only need one to take out Broadsky, but it was good to be prepared.

He eased the door open enough to see in the living room. No one was there. He stepped inside the door. He glanced down the hall to the bedroom, nothing obvious. There was a noise in the kitchen. He made his way around slowly and the popped into the door frame with his gun pointed at Broadsky.

"Hey, Booth. I'm making some chili. Grab a beer, you are gonna love this. I got the recipe from some old lady in New Mexico." Broadsky stole a look at him. "You might want to change first ... at least wash your hands." He went back to his work on the chili.

"Step away from the pot, Jake."

"Oh come on now, Seeley. Is that anyway to greet an old friend?"

"Why are you doing this Jake?"

"You know the answer to that, Booth. You were the one always talking about the consequences of actions." He faced Booth fully. "You didn't honestly think there wouldn't be payback for your betrayal."

"You were killing innocent people, Jake."

"No one is innocent."

"A four month old baby?"

"Just saving him the trouble of growing and becoming a dictator like his father." He turned back to the stove. "Besides, I was doing you a favor. That Taffet woman was about to sue your ass over that blonde. Really Booth, the blonde over your wife? I guess she is pretty enough in that plastic Hollywood way, but your wife is a really looker. And smart too. A little lacking in social skills, but I bet she is a tiger in bed, huh?"

"Let's leave my wife out of this."

"Can't do that Boothy Boy - is that really what you let that blonde piece of fluff call you? Boothy." He shuttered. "Didn't think you would go in for that type."

"What about Vaziri and Sullivan."

"Just protecting your interests, Booth. They both wanted to take sweet, sweet Bren away from you." He took a long pull from his beer. "She loves you, ya know. She loves you more than she does her own life. You were an idiot to let her go. If she were my wife, I would have followed her to the ends of the earth."

"You could have killed her today."

"No, no danger of that ... not then anyway. I'm a good shot Booth. The best, I recall. Long sight better than you." He grinned and finished his beer. "No, she will die, make no doubt about that but in a time and place of my choosing and there will be nothing you can do about it."

Booth raised his gun poised to shoot.

"You won't do that Booth, though if you did I would still win. Cold blooded murder in your own kitchen of an unarmed man ... you're sure to get a life sentence if not the needle. Actually I think there are three needles, do you know? I'll look it up. Have you used this thing called the internet? Very cool. Wasn't around much when you had me locked up fifteen years ago."

"You're not going to walk out of here, Broadsky."

"You're not going to stop me, Booth."

In a flash, Broadsky had flung the beer bottle at Booth. Booth went to deflect and Broadsky was on him, disarming him and taking him to the ground. He kneeled on his chest heavily. Booth could barely breathe.

"Why?" Booth squeaked out. "Why Bren? This is between you and me, leave her out of this."

"I'm taking from you, what you took from me." He picked up the broken bottle and held it to Booth's neck. "My poor Ginny. My poor sweet Ginny. She couldn't take me being locked up. She couldn't take care of our son. I should have been there to protect them. Then evil entered my house - they killed my son in front of his mother – slit his throat - and laughed. Then they raped my poor Ginny for hours and left her for dead. And what was I doing? I was rotting in a jail cell thanks to you." He got a far away look in his eye. Booth thought it might be his chance. Broadsky put his full weight on Booth's chest. "She committed suicide, ya know. Ginny, my pretty Ginny … in the hospital … three days later before her wounds healed over... she slit her wrists in her hospital bed and bled out as doctors and nurses just walked by ignoring her."

"I'm sorry."

"No you aren't. Not enough ... not nearly enough. But you will be."

"Jake."

"Don't worry. I got the bastards who killed my son and did those horrible things to Ginny. They didn't even know it was coming. That's the only part I regret. They should have known it was me that killed them. They should have known why. I'm not making that mistake with you. When your sweet wife dies in your arms, you will know it was me who took her out, and you will know it was your fault. Just like Ginny's death was mine."

"Jake!"

Broadsky picked up Booth's weapon, pointed it at him, cocked it, and then hit him hard in the head with it.

**=|=.A.=|=.U.=|=**

Booth woke sometime later to the smell of burnt chili and a lump on his head the size of a golf ball. Broadsky was gone. He checked his watch. It was about ninety minutes later. He turned off the stove, tore off his blood stained shirt, skipped the shower, pulled on a Kevlar vest, grabbed his back up weapon and three clips and beat feet to the hospital.

Bren had been released when he got there. No one could tell him who she was released to, but Booth knew. She wouldn't have gone willingly, so Broadsky probably told her that he was holding Booth captive. Now all he had to do was figure out where.

He wouldn't need to. Broadsky called him, well Bren called.

"Bren, where are you?"

"At the reflecting pool, by the coffee cart. He says that if you are not here in five minutes he will kill me. There is a school bus full of kids. He says that if you aren't here in five minutes he will start killing them one a minute until you show up. He says if you call the police or try to alert the kids in anyway, he will kill them and me."

"I'm on my way." Booth started moving toward his car but kept the phone to his ear.

"NO ... Booth you can't come. He will kill you too."

"No, he won't. He doesn't want me dead. He wants me alive."

"I'm scared."

"Yeah, me too." He swallowed hard. "Do you know where he is?"

"No, but there is a laser target pointed at my chest."

"Which way are you facing?"

"I don't ... I don't know ... South ... South west."

"Keep talking to me, Bren ... keep talking to me."

"I'm sorry," she said with her voice cracking.

"No, no ... don't say that. It was me ... it was all my fault. I'm the one who's sorry."

"We had everything ... I loved our life."

"We'll get it back, Bren. We'll get it back ... trust me."

"I do. You're the only one I trust, but I think it's too late."

Booth pulled up to the far side of the reflecting pool. "No, not too late. Never too late. As long as we are alive, it's never too late. Stay with me." He saw her across the pool. He scoped out where Broadsky would be. The afternoon sun would hide Booth in the shadows if he kept low. "Keep talking to me, Bren. I'm here."

"You shouldn't have come."

"Nowhere else I could be."

Booth made his way over to her. He saw the laser target on his chest. Broadsky knew Booth was there and was watching his movements. Booth turned his back to the direction of the laser and worked his way toward Bren. When he got close enough he called to her.

"Stand up, Bren. Stay in front of me."

"Booth?"

"Just do it, please." He was looking deeply into her eyes.

She did.

"We are going to walk slowly out of line of sight, OK." He took her hands and moved her toward that tree line. She stepped closer to him as they moved sideways. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her.

"A Kevlar vest?" she asked.

"It could save us," he said weakly. There was not a chance in hell that Kevlar would stop Broadsky's bullet, at least not for Booth, but maybe stop enough to save Bran. "Keep moving."

They were just about to step behind a tree when Booth felt the fire rip though his back. The force of it caused him to fall forward and his weight took both of them to the ground. Everything was in slow motion, his chest exploded, her chest exploded. Their eyes were locked expressing more than mere words could.

"Booth!"

"Bren!"

**=|=.E. =|=.N. =|=.D.=|=.A.=|=.L.=|=.T.=|=._.=|=.U.=|=.N.=|=.I.=|=.V.=|=**


	9. Chapter 9

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 9

**=|=.B.=|=.O.=|=.N.=|=.E.=|=.S.=|=**

"Booth!" Brennan shouted sitting upright in the chair in the recovery room.

"Bren!" Booth shouted attempting to sit up in his hospital bed.

Dr. Campion was the only other person in the room. He was doing his post op check on Booth who wasn't expected to wake for another hour. "Wow! Pretty impressive!" He gestured between the two indicating that they both woke at the exact same moment. "Almost like you were dreaming the same thing."

Booth and Brennan shared a look of horrified recognition - it wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare. No words were spoken. The world, that alternate universe and the events were still very real. They were dead and then they weren't. Dead in one reality; alive in another. Booth touched his chest. It was not blown open. He was whole, he was alive and so was she. Brennan did not look down to verify that there was no wound to her heart. She was afraid to; the pain was excruciating. She could barely breathe. They were disoriented; they needed to remember what was happening in this reality. It slowly came back to them as the dream world ebbed away.

Brennan stood up with great effort ignoring the throbbing in her chest. Was that her heart? Was it beating or was it bleeding out inside her chest? "Is he OK, Dr. Campion?"

"He came through will a lot of color," the doctor said.

Booth smiled; Brennan looked away.

"Thank you, doctor," Brennan said. "I will go find -."

Hannah burst in. "You're awake. They said it would be hours. I was just submitting a story. How are you feeling? Are you OK? Doc is he OK?"

Her babbling was almost soothing and it saved Brennan from actually speaking to Booth or looking at him. Hannah was the most animated object in the room and all eyes were on her.

Campion looked back at Booth and his expression changed from amusement to concern. Booth hadn't said anything since his cry out. He looked more disoriented and confused than he did moments before. In brain surgery there is always a chance that the patient could live, the operation could be a success yet there would be complications.

Hannah prattled on. "Why isn't he saying anything, doctor? Seeley, Seeley ... are you OK? Talk to me, babe."

Booth studied this blonde before him. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "I fired you."

Brennan snapped her attention at Booth.

Hannah sat back and was still for a moment. "Fired me?" she asked. "Babe, do you know who I am?"

Dr. Campion hustled Brennan and Hannah out of the room. It was against hospital policy for visitors to be in the recovery room as well. He had made an exception for Brennan, but the girlfriend just bypassed the rules on her own.

Brennan stood in the hallway trying to think. It was a fluke that they woke up at the same time calling each other's name. They didn't share the same dream. It was absurd to think that they had. Brennan had never fully believed that she and Booth shared the experience the last time. She was writing a book and reading it out loud; he must have heard it and it formed the direction of his coma dream state. There was no explanation - no reasonable rational scientific explanation that would explain how they could have possibly shared the experience this time. There was no book, there was no coma. It was a fluke that they woke up at the same time. It was a fluke.

Did he say Bones or Bren when he woke or was it neither of those? She was still confused about the facts of the real world but it was coming back - painfully each and every detail was coming back. So why would he wake up calling her name? Clearly something happened. Of course something happened. He just had his brains scrambled again. It would take him a while to recover at least this time it would not be Brennan who helped him get back to normal. He had Hannah.

Hannah paced in front of her continuing to babble without need for response. She was clearly very upset as she should be. She claimed to love Booth. She was in a relationship with him and had been for some time. Brennan didn't know exactly how long. He never really told her when he and Hannah met - the how was burned on her brain fig tree and all. In fact Booth said very little about Hannah except that he loved her and it was serious - as serious as a heart attack. Brennan finally put her hand on her chest. No wound, no blood, it was still beating - it was all a dream, but her heart ached. Her heart was attacked.

The doctor came out and suggested that Booth have one visitor at a time and that they keep it very non-stressful. He was looking at Hannah when he said it. She needed to bring her anxiety level down about sixty notches.

"Dr. Brennan, why don't you let me buy you a cup of coffee," Dr. Campion suggested.

"Thank you," she agreed. Brennan turned and walked down the hall. She didn't look at Hannah, she didn't wait for Campion, she was grateful for the excuse to leave.

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

Booth was still confused - not unreasonable considering he just survived his second brain surgery. But it was more than that. He remembered waking up the last time, he remembered not being able to shake the feelings he experienced. He remembered not wanting to let them go. He remembered Sweets telling him that his feelings weren't real and giving some physiological evidence that made no sense to Booth. He also remembered struggling to get his life back. And he remembered being in love with Brennan. He remembered it from his dream and he remembered it all those months afterward. He also remembered every detail that lead up to him falling in love with her. He was in the middle of it before he even knew it had begun.

Booth had never felt about a woman they way he felt about Brennan and that was still true. Booth was a white knight there was no doubt about that. For a long time he believed that Brennan needed saving, she needed so much help maneuvering in the world of real people with real emotions. He was her teacher, her mentor, her advisor - her hero. But then one day he woke up and realized she was his savior. She made him want more, be more, do better. She made him work for it and he wanted to work harder. He didn't want to be her hero; he wanted to share everything he had or ever hoped to have with her. He didn't want to change her, or mentor her, or teach her anything - he wanted to experience the world with her for thirty or forty or fifty years ... longer if he could. Then she was gone.

He convinced himself in Afghanistan that Brennan was gone for good. That even if they did meet at the coffee cart in a year, she wouldn't go back to working with him. That his world of murder and death; the underbelly of society was too much for her. He wanted to protect her from that too. He assumed that she would move back to the safety of pure science, hundred year old remains and looking at people as a group rather than as individuals. He never expected her to change her mind about that, about anything, about him. That was his mindset when he met Hannah.

Hannah came in to the room and had ratcheted back her worry. She was calm and relaxed.

"Hey babe, can I get you something. They said you can have water and juice."

He looked at her as if he were looking at her for the first time. She was pretty, very pretty - but her prettiness didn't touch him. She looked like a lot of the women he knew when he was serial dating. She was his type; blonde, flowing, smiling, easy, but those types never lasted. Like cotton candy - tasty for a while, but no substance.

She sat down in a chair by the bed. "Seeley?"

He smiled weakly at her and reached out to take her hand. She took it in both of hers. He remembered her touch. He remembered the feel of her next to him, under him, over him. He remembered her smell and the sounds she made when they had sex. He remembered her telling him she loved him and he remembered saying it back. He remembered every moment they spent together, but he couldn't feel anything.

"Seeley?"

"I'm here," he said softly. "I'm OK."

"Do you remember what you said to me just a moment ago?"

He shook his head, but he did remember. He remembered every moment of that other experience too - he felt it. He despised himself and felt dirty every time she touched him or he touched her. Each time he showered her off and vowed that it was the last time. He felt the ache in his soul at missing Bren and he the utter devastation at the loss of his son. And finally the terror that gripped his heart when he knew that there was no hope to save Bren or himself from death. He remembered all those things and he felt them as if they really happened.

"You said you fired me? Do you remember?"

"No." He looked away. "How about some juice, huh?"

"Sure, sure." She got up to get the juice. She hadn't turned her reporter instincts on Booth in the past, he seemed so open, so unaffected, so readable, but now her antennae were up and twitching. Why did he not tell her about his brain tumor? It took him months to tell her about Brennan's feelings for him, and he only reluctantly admitted his for her. He claimed they were over. He claimed that it was all in the past, but he never said what was in the past. What else was between them?

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

Brennan and Dr. Campion were sitting outside. It was a bright sunny day, but Brennan's spirits were dark and stormy. Campion tried to ply her with his many charms and his striking green eyes. Brennan was never good at flirting, but on that particular occasion she didn't recognize it as such.

She wasn't really listening to him talk about his boat, his house, his cabin in the mountains, his condo on the islands. She looked over at him and asked, "Do you think it's possible that two people can share the same dream?"

"Sure," he smiled. "My first wife and I dreamt about the life we would have ... that is until she found someone else to share that dream."

Brennan was confused. "I mean literally the same dream," she corrected.

"I don't understand."

"I told you that Booth reacted badly to the anesthesia and was in a coma for four days."

"Yes."

"Well I stayed with him ... all day, all night ..."

"Quite a commitment."

"... And wrote ... I wrote a novel ..."

"Which one? I'm sure I have read it, twice."

"I deleted it."

"Seriously?"

"It was not a book I wanted published. It was personal."

"Like a journal?"

"No." She was getting frustrated. "It was about a man and a woman - husband and wife - they were totally committed to each other. They owned a night club, there was a murder and each of them was suspected of committing the murder."

"Naturally they didn't do it."

"No, but that's not important. What's important is that they were unshakable - in their love, in their trust and in their commitment to each other."

"Ok." He shrugged. "How did it end?"

"They were exonerated for the murder and ... and ... and the woman told the man that she was pregnant."

"So it was a happy ending."

"I thought so."

"It wasn't?" 

"When Booth woke up from his coma, he had been living inside my book. The events of my book were happening to him. They were real to him in his coma state."

"You read it to him?"

"I must have."

"Well that is odd, but I am sure it only took him a day or two to get back normal."

"It took longer than that," she said cryptically.

"I assume his girlfriend was not his costar in this story."

"No," Brennan looked down at her untouched coffee. "Booth hadn't met Hannah yet."

"So I can guess that you were the wife?"

Brennan nodded.

"It's clear that you two are very close. How long have you known each other?"

"Seven years, but we worked together as partners for the middle five of those years."

"And something happened?"

She studied him for a long moment. "Booth woke up from that dream believing he was in love with me. He believed it until I ended our partnership to go on an expedition and he went to Afghanistan. We were to meet back up in a year and resume our partnership."

"But he came home with girlfriend in tow."

"Yes."

"And you think it was this book, this dream that made him believe that he loved you?" He laughed. "I don't buy that at all. It may have forced him to see something that he refused to see before, but dreams don't have long lasting effects - not for months or years."

Brennan nodded. "It seems that love doesn't either."

"Why? Because he has moved on?"

"Yes, he is in love with Hannah. He told me so."

Dr. Campion took pity on poor Brennan and shared something about himself that would essentially ruin any chance he had with her. "I have told a lot of women in my life that I loved them. I even went so far as to marry three of them, but there was only one woman who I ever truly loved and I was too stupid to see it for what it was. It was so overpowering that I couldn't deal with it. I made every mistake in the world, and she finally left me - as she should have. I didn't deserve her."

She frowned. "I suspect that I don't deserve Booth either."

That was not what Campion was saying. She had misinterpreted him. Could that have been what happened between Booth and Brennan? Misinterpretation, Miscommunication. Misunderstandings.

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

Hannah passed the waiting room on her way to get the juice. Cam and Angela were there. She went to tell them the good news but as she approached their conversation caught her off guard and she listened in.

"So do you think he will wake up in love with Brennan like he did the last time?" Angela asked.

Cam shook her head. "He's with Hannah now."

"And you think that means something?"

"It means something to Booth and probably to Hannah."

"Maybe ... maybe not ... But I don't see Reporter Barbie and Booth making a life time together."

"How well do you know Hannah?"

"I know Booth and I know Brennan. Did you know that she told him that she made a mistake?"

"What? Who? When? What mistake?"

"Apparently Booth suggested they get together ... you know ... said that he knew right from the beginning that she was THE ONE."

"Really? When was this?'

"About a month before they left for different parts of the world. Anyway she told him no."

"Why?"

"You know Bren, she doesn't trust relationships ... fleeting, ephemeral, blah, blah, blah. Anyway he was saying that he wanted someone to love in him for fifty years."

"Dr. Brennan would never make that kind of promise."

"I know, right ... I would have thought Booth knew that too."

"So when they parted they were running away from each other?" Cam asked.

"She never told me specifically but she was scared. Scared of her feelings for him - which she could have handled fine on her own if he hadn't have said anything. Anyway, with the gravedigger and everything else she just got too scared that she would lose him. That she wouldn't be there to protect him. She withdrew."

"And he let her? Did he know all this?"

"Come on, Cam. Booth may know people but he doesn't know himself - or apparently her. He should have grabbed her that day at the airport, kissed her and refused to let her go."

"That's what I was expecting," Cam agreed. "But what about Hannah?"

"Who knows? I'm sure he loves her after a fashion ... but now that he knows that Brennan is back in the game, it won't be long now."

"What do you mean back in the game?"

"The mistake, I told you ... she told Booth right before Christmas that she had made a mistake ... rejecting him, leaving him ... whatever ... she missed her chance."

"Did she tell you all this?"

"Yes, I dragged it out of her one night when she was drinking. Ya know, you can get a lot out of drunk people if you are sober."

"Remind me not to drink with you."

"Yeah, me too," said Hannah.

Both Angela and Cam spun around to see Hannah standing within earshot. Neither one knew how long she was standing there.

"Um ... Hannah."

"Hannah, hey ... how's Booth?"

"Seeley is fine," she stated. "So tell me about this coma dream ... the one where Seeley woke up in love with Temperance.


	10. Chapter 10

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 10

**=|=.B.=|=.O.=|=.N.=|=.E.=|=.S.=|=**

Booth was in the hospital for six days. Brennan didn't come to visit him once. She came to the hospital, she checked out his charts, she spoke to Dr. Campion about his recovery, but she didn't visit him. There was a reason for that; a very good reason.

The day of Booth's surgery Hannah confronted her about her relationship with Booth. Somewhere Hannah got the notion that Booth and Brennan were hiding something from her.

"Just how close were you?" Hannah demanded to know.

"We were not having sex, if that's what you are asking."

"It would be easier if you had been," Hannah snapped. "When Seeley told me that you had feelings for him he claimed it was in the past; claimed his were too. So why don't you tell me what really happened between you two and what is going on now."

Brennan thought for a long moment. She didn't want to lie. She didn't want to discuss what Booth had or had not said or implied about her to Hannah. In fact she had been really trying to forget that Booth had said anything at all. He had broken her trust; she never imagined that Booth would do that to her. He should have discussed it with her first, at least told her it was happening. "I don't feel comfortable discussing this with you," Brennan said. "You need to talk to Booth."

"You claimed to be my friend."

"I am your friend, and I'm Booth's friend. It seems that you are trying to solicit information from me to use against him; it would do neither of you any good. All you need to know is that he and I are not nor have we ever been involved in a sexual relationship. He is with you now and he has stated to me on a number of occasions that he loves you. I have no reason to doubt him."

"Temperance, if you are harboring feelings for Booth ... I can't be your friend."

"I accept that." Brennan felt relief; it was such an effort to be interested in Hannah. She and Hannah had little or nothing in common, and the only thing they did have in common was not a subject Brennan wanted to discuss. And witnessing their relationship was hard to watch.

"You can't be his partner either," Hannah announced.

"That is not your decision to make."

"For the moment it is. Please respect my wishes and refrain from seeing him until he has fully recovered and we have had a chance to discuss this."

"I am still his medical proxy."

"I'll get that changed today."

"That is also not your decision to make."

That little tête-à-tête Brennan had with Hannah wasn't the reason she didn't visit Booth. She had decided that after her conversation with Dr. Campion. If Brennan were to take anything from that dream, not that she believed in dreams or their meanings, it was that even the most unflappable couple is doomed to failure. It was the human condition. So ultimately there was no future for Booth and Brennan regardless of Hannah Burley.

Cam told her that Booth had asked after her. Cam had no answer for him. Brennan had no answer for Cam. Brennan had no answer for herself, but she was done asking the questions.

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

Booth spent much of his recovery time alone. Hannah would come by in the evenings and stay for an hour, but they had little to say to each other except to talk about the news, weather and sports. There was a huge elephant in the room and neither one wanted to address it. One striking difference between Brennan and Hannah became obvious during those days. Hannah wore her emotions on her sleeve and she was angry, very, very angry. Her 'nursing' skills were definitely affected by her anger.

He had other visitors: Cam, Hodgins, Angela and Sweets. But Brennan didn't visit. He knew she was there because Dr. Campion talked about her each day as well as the nurses; always commenting on her attention to his care and recovery. He wasn't permitted a phone for the first few days but when he finally got his cell back he called her - a number of time - it always went to voice mail.

He wasn't surprised that she didn't visit. She didn't last time either. In fact the day he was released she left for Peru, Paraguay, Guatemala or someplace far, far away from him. She was always running away, but she always seemed to come back. He forgot that last time. He wondered if he just waited in one place long enough if she would finally settle down and stay with him; kind of like being accepted by an animal in the wild, eventually the animal learns to trust and tolerate the foreigner.

With all that time alone Booth had more than enough time to think. He thought about the man he was and the man he was in the dream/nightmare. He also thought a lot about the man he wanted to be. He was in that headspace when Sweets came to see him the second time.

"How are you, Booth?"

"Going crazy Sweets - care to help?"

"Help you go crazy?'

"Stir crazy, Sweets. Stir crazy. I need to get out of here. How about a walk around the floor, or to the sun room or anywhere but in this room?"

"Sure, sure ... are you cleared to do that?"

"Yeah, as long as someone is with me - you're someone, right?"

It took a little while but they made it down the hall to a large bright sunny room. They chatted about nothing for a while. Joked about hospital food and its aid in recovery, and the cold hands of the nurses - non interesting stuff like that. Sweets was just waiting for an opening. There was a lull in the conversation and Sweets jumped on it.

"So, any interesting dreams to report this time around?"

Booth snapped his attention back to Sweets. "Why what have you heard?"

"Nothing."

"Have you talked to Bones?"

"I have not seen Dr. Brennan but I understand neither have you."

"No, I haven't." He looked away. "She's probably pissed off at me."

"Why?"

"She is my medial proxy. I forced her to go into the operating room with me again. And ..." He glanced back at Sweets. "And I asked her to tell Hannah about the last time, but you know ... not all about it."

"You never told Hannah about your brain surgery."

"It never came up."

"Right."

"Come on Sweets ... do you tell people everything about yourself?"

"That was a pretty life altering event in your life that impacted your relationship with Dr. Brennan - your partner. I think that this is the kind of thing that Hannah should have been told if you want to have a relationship with her."

"What do you know about relationships?"

"You asked me if you should tell Hannah that Brennan had feelings for you. You felt it was wrong to keep that kind of secret from Hannah. Why can you tell Brennan's secrets by not your own?"

"It wasn't like that. I would have told her ... eventually."

"What did Brennan say when you told her you were going to disclose that piece of information to Hannah."

"We never discussed it."

"Dude, really?"

"Dude, what?"

"Hey look, I understand your need to come clean with your girlfriend, but you said that Hannah and Brennan were friends. You knew it would get back to Brennan. Where is your loyalty to your partner? You just let her get blindsided by your girlfriend."

"I told Hannah to go easy on her. That Bones doesn't see things the way the rest of the world does."

"Dude, that was bad."

"Hey DUDE, you didn't say I should discuss it with Bones first."

Something occurred to Sweets. "How has your relationship with Brennan been since you returned from Afghanistan."

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yeah, fine … ya know … whatever."

"Leaving aside the notion that you were in love with Dr. Brennan."

"Please."

"You were surrogates for each other before you went away. When you came back you no longer needed a surrogate, but she still did. That had to affect Brennan, and it had to affect your actions toward her."

"I don't want to talk about this. I just had brain surgery."

"You should talk about it. You should think about it. You should consider how you changed in your relationship with your partner. Before Hannah you would have protected Brennan with your life as she would you. Both of you would defend the other with everything you had - I had been on the receiving end of that on more than one occasion. You never would have outed her for anything or anyone. Yet you did. How much of that was due to your responsibility to Hannah and how much had to do with your reaction to be rejected and abandoned by Brennan."

"Abandon? She didn't -"

"And how did you change after she told you that she loved you?"

"She didn't say that exactly ... she said she made a mistake, that she missed her chance, that she didn't want any regrets."

"That must have been very difficult to hear in light of your new situation and your old situation. I could see where you might feel angry or upset. Need to lash out."

"I didn't set out to find Hannah to hurt Bones."

"I wasn't saying that, but since you did ... did you?"

"Sweets ... you're twisting my words around."

"Why hasn't Dr. Brennan been to visit you?"

"You will need to ask her that."

"Have you called her?"

"Yes. Look Sweets I have a bigger problem. Hannah found out about all of it ... the coma dream ... the whole thing ... or some of it ... enough to ask anyway."

"What did you say?"

"Well she hasn't asked yet. But she will."

"What will you say?"

"Well see ... that's the thing. A few days ago I was pretty clear that Hannah and I were working out; that we had a chance at making a life together. Now I'm not so sure."

"What changed?"

"My head being cut open like a can of beans for one, but ... well ..." Booth looked away. He really didn't want to disclose when he had experienced.

"You had another dream, didn't you?"

"Yes. Must be that damned anesthesia."

"Tell me."

Booth struggled and finally relented and told him. He told Sweets all of it from beginning to end. He didn't sugar coat his mistakes and he didn't minimize Brennan's. He did sort of hedge around the persona that Hannah had taken on in his dream since it was pretty unflattering. He told him about Broadsky and being shot through the heart. He didn't tell him that Brennan and he woke at the same time. That was still too weird.

"Well, that's interesting."

"Let's not over shrink it Sweets ... just tell me what it means."

"What does it mean to you?"

"Come on Sweet ... talk."

"Well, I would submit that the baby that you lost was your relationship in this reality."

"How do you get that?"

"Well Dr. Brennan ... Bren wasn't able to bring the baby to term. Was it the lack of strength of the baby or was it something within Bren, really doesn't matter in the end, the baby died. Bren couldn't take the loss and left town. Not unlike what our own Dr. Brennan did when she rejected you and went to Maluku in our reality."

"Our Reality ... this isn't the Syfy channel Sweets."

"Further, by authorizing the hysterectomy you effectively ended any relationship you two could have. You took away her choice and made it for both of you."

"Psychobabble. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

"And sometimes it isn't. The Hannah in your dream and the other self destructive behavior that you displayed was as a result of your guilt and disappointment at losing something that you wanted - wanted more than life itself. Your dream ended when you had apologized, your love reconfirmed and you were killed."

"So what are you saying that I have to make a suicide pact with Brennan?"

"Don't be so literal, Booth. You are smarter than that. You can tell when people are lying. You can tell when people are telling the truth. You can see motive and emotion in all kinds of people. I suggest you look yourself in the mirror and state very clearly what your feelings are for both Hannah and Brennan and if you can be honest and lose the ego, you will see the truth. You owe it to Hannah. You owe it to Dr. Brennan but more importantly, you owe it to yourself."


	11. Chapter 11

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 11

**=|=.B.=|=.O.=|=.N.=|=.E.=|=.S.=|=**

It was a week since Hannah overheard Angela and Cam. It was a week that Angela was waiting for the blowback. They had literally sidestepped Hannah when she confronted them, suggesting that Hannah discuss it with Booth. Cam counseled waiting until he had recovered from his surgery. It was a week that Angela was waiting for Brennan to say something, anything to her about that. But nothing happened. Brennan had again and in true Brennan fashion shut down. She worked; she said nothing to anyone about anything other than work. She didn't have lunch with them, she didn't go for drinks with them, she didn't want to talk about the baby and she didn't go visit Booth with them. Angela felt it was time for Brennan to be forced out of the safety of her intellect and into the scary world of her emotions. In lieu of the tearful talk, Angela would go for just making her mad. She wanted to see some emotion. Angela walked into Brennan's office. "Hey sweetie."

"Hi." Brennan was busy clearing off her desk.

"So Booth gets out of the hospital today."

"Yes."

"Jack, Cam and I were going to bring him some Chinese, do you want to come with?"

"No, thank you."

Angela was done pussyfooting around. "So, what's going on with you and Booth?"

Brennan stopped what she was doing but didn't look up. "Nothing."

"Something's going on."

"No, not a thing." She went back to sorting and filing.

Angela decided that the direct approach wouldn't work; she had to take another tactic. "So, Booth did not tell Hannah all the gory details of his brain tumor … or the coma dream or waking up in love with you."

Brennan finally looked up at her. "So you told her."

"She overheard me talking to Cam."

"I wish you wouldn't gossip and I particularly wish you wouldn't gossip about me or Booth."

"How about you and Booth?"

"Angela."

"Someone needed to tell her what kind of party she was invited to, and if Booth couldn't do it and she couldn't figure it out, it might as well have been me."

"Angela, please listen to me. Above all else, I care about Booth and his happiness. If he has found that with Hannah, then I do now wish to interfere even if I could – which I can't."

"Very magnanimous." Angela folded her arms over her swelling abdomen. "What about you?"

"I'm fine. I never expected to find the kind of love that you and Dr. Hodgins have. I see the logic in marriage and I don't need a husband for children. I'm fine on my own – better."

"That's because you don't think you deserve to be loved. You don't think you are loveable … and if no one else tells you, I will. You are loveable. You're an amazing human being and you deserve the same happiness as the rest of us. You don't need to be alone, Brennan. You won't ever be alone as long as I'm alive, but you deserve a man who will love you."

"That may or may not be true or be something I will ever be open to, but that man will not be Booth."

"Because of Hannah? She's cotton candy, your steak."

"I would prefer not to be compared to food, but no it is not because of Hannah. It's because of Booth. We spent years building trust and respect for each other. He has broken that trust in deference to his relationship with Hannah. That tells me a lot about the man he really is."

"Ya know what, Bren. Relationships are about love and trust and respect and companionship … but they're also about forgiveness. We're all human. We all make mistakes. We all need to be forgiven."

"To be forgiven doesn't a person need to recognize that they have done something that requires forgiveness."

"Give it time, Bren. Give it time."

"Well right now, I am taking six to eight weeks."

"Where are you running away to this time?"

Brennan frowned. "Peru."

"If you keep running away, you may find that the people you expected to be here when you get back are gone – and gone for good."

"I am well of aware of that Angela fact," she said with tears in her eyes. She was very well aware of that – painfully aware. "The message has been received and understood." Wasn't that part of the reason she went to Maluku, to gain some perspective and see if whatever was between them could survive. It did for her, it didn't for him. Not only did he engage in a sexual liaison with someone else, but he fell in love and brought her into their lives. In doing so he chose to trample on everything Booth and Brennan had built over their time together. She loved him enough to be happy for him with his new love; he didn't care enough about her to respect their friendship, honor the trust that took years to build.

"Bren, Hannah is not -."

"Angela, this is not about Hannah. It has nothing to do with her - perse. This has to do with my relationship, my partnership, my friendship with Booth. He made his choice and it was not me."

"What choice?"

"Who he would be loyal to. It was not me," she said again; her voice cracking.

"You are setting him up for failure, Sweetie. Was there any way he could be loyal to both of you?"

"Yes, there was. But he didn't choose that. I have to adapt."

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

Booth called several times during his recovery, Brennan let it go to voice mail. On the day of his release he called her office phone and she picked it up.

"Bones, what's going on?" he asked.

"I don't understand the question."

"I'm getting out today."

"Yes, I know. I'm very glad you will recover fully."

"Not glad enough to come see me."

"I'm going to Peru," she announced. "I will be gone for six to eight weeks."

"Right … I guess I should have seen that coming."

"You have more pressing matters. You need to heal."

"Can I see you before you go?"

"I 'm leaving in the morning, very early."

"I'd like to see you, to talk to you ... I think we need to talk."

"I'm not sure there is much left to say."

"I know you are angry with me and I know why. I never should have put you in that position. It was rude and wrong. I'm sorry."

"Accepted," she stated quickly though she wasn't sure which position he was referring to, but it didn't matter, she didn't accept his apology. She lied to him. She had never overtly lied to him before. She didn't like it.

"Please come see me, I can't come to you ... I just had my head opened." He tried to be funny, but it was not a funny situation.

"They didn't literally open your skull, Booth."

"I know, Bones. Please."

Brennan thought for a moment. She had no intention of going to see him but she needed an excuse that he wouldn't debate. "Hannah has requested that I not see you."

Booth took in a sharp breath. "She had no right to do that."

"She has every right. She is the person you have chosen."

"Bones, please."

"I'm sorry, Booth. I need to go."

"Will you be back?"

"In six to eight weeks. We can talk about dissolving our working relationship then."

Another sharp breath from Booth. "Bren, please don't do anything or decide anything until we can talk, OK?"

"What did you call me?"

"Bones, I called you Bones ... I always call you Bones." He really didn't remember calling her Bren. "Are you sure you have to go? Can you just give me a little time ... a little more time? ... I know I don't have the right to ask."

"No, no you don't."

"Let me fix this, Bren - please, give me a chance to fix this and make it up to you."

She didn't know to what he was referring. She didn't know what he saw as broken and needed fixing. But he had to stop calling her Bren. It was tearing her up inside. Booth and Bren were dead. "I need to go. Please take care of yourself." She hung up. There tears streamed down her face. She quickly brushed them off and went back to what she was doing.

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

"Dr. Brennan?" Sweets called from her doorway.

Brennan stood up and glared at him. She couldn't take any more interruptions and she really didn't want to talk about her feelings or Booth or Hannah or anything to anyone.

"Am I interrupting?"

"I am closing up my office. I'm going to Peru."

"Sudden vacation?"

"It's work related. Dr. Sweets if you are here to talk about Booth -."

"No, I am here to talk to you, Dr. Brennan. I'm not here as a psychologist, I'm here as a friend."

"Thank you but I would really rather not. And I must finish what I am doing."

"That's exactly what I want to talk to you about. Closure is a very important process in life. Finding closure allows you to move on in your life productively without dragging the baggage of the past with you."

"This does not sound like a conversation of a friend, it's more psychology."

"I'm a friend who is a psychologist and I have a very unique perspective as I have been permitted to observe your relationship with Agent Booth over the years."

"You have been more than an observer, Dr. Sweets. On many occasions you have been the catalyst forcing us in a direction that we hadn't intended on going with some very negative results."

"I realize that, and maybe it's my own guilt that has brought me here today, but I really feel that it's important."

"Closure?"

"Yes. When you and Booth parted more than a year ago, there was no clear understanding between you."

"We would return and resume our work with the FBI as we did."

"No, no." Sweets looked down. "There was no understanding about your personal relationship."

"We don't have one."

"Dr. Brennan, you and Booth have a deeper connection than most people ever hope to have."

"I don't want to talk about this."

Sweets played is trump card. "Did you experience the same dream Booth did this time too?"

Brennan snapped her attention to Sweets. Was there anything that Booth felt was sacred? Whatever happened to 'what's ours is ours'? "No," she denied it.

"I can see that you're lying, Dr. Brennan. Did your dream involve the loss of the child and end with a sniper bullet killing you both at the same time with a shot through your hearts?"

She looked down. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do."

"Isn't death a form of closure?"

"Death is an end, but it's not closure." Sweets stepped closer. "I would like to help you, Dr. Brennan."

"Why?"

"Because I care about you. I care about your happiness. I care that you appear to be hiding a great deal of pain and that means to me that you feel alone. You're not alone, Dr. Brennan."

"I appreciate that you are trying to help, but your way has caused me nothing but grief. I would prefer to handle this my way."

"This is not the kind of thing you can think your way through. It's not about forcing a new perspective. Losing Booth will be harder than losing your parents," he pronounced. "He earned your trust, and then he discarded it. That was a betrayal. Isn't that how you feel?"

Brennan stood up very straight and took a deep cleansing breath. "I appreciate what you are trying to do and I know that you want to help, but it's not helping. I don't need the same kind of ... closure as you do ... I'm not like you. So thank you for your time and interest, but please do not direct your psychology at me anymore." With that she picked up her bag and walked out.

Sweets was left knowing that he has started the B&B snowball rolling down the hill. It was completely out of control now leaving a path of destruction in its wake.

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

Hannah helped Booth into the apartment. He settled in on the couch. He looked over at the answering machine to see if Brennan had called. There was no message light flashing. Hannah had been short and civil on the ride home. She apparently hadn't softened in the week.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked. "I need to get back to the office."

"I thought you took the afternoon off."

"I can't. Big story."

"We should talk."

"I can't right now, Seeley."

"Did you ask Bones not to visit me in the hospital?" he asked ignoring her request.

"I did."

"You had no right to do that."

"I have every right."

"No, not really. If you have a problem with my relationship with Bones, you need to talk to me about it not her."

"Fine." She put her hands on her hips to brace herself. "Do you still have feelings for Temperance?"

"Yes," he said quickly.

"So you lied to me."

"I lied to myself. I thought it was over. I convinced myself it was. I convinced myself that she didn't and couldn't ever feel about me the same way. I told myself that I had to move on." He shook his head. "But I still have feelings for her - doesn't matter how she feels about me."

Hannah was at a loss. She had no idea how to respond to that.

"I'm sorry, Hannah. I realize how unfair this has been to you."

"Yeah, ya think?" She paced a little. "I moved to Washington for you. I gave up my career for you."

"I know. I know. I also know that I didn't ask you to do that, but it was unfair to accept it when you offered. I do love you Hannah, very much."

"But not enough," she said with tear filled eyes.

"Bones and I -."

"Stop calling her that stupid name."

"We have built a history. We have built trust and respect. It wasn't easy like it was with you. We worked for it, we earned it. We have seen each other through some really rough times. We know things about each other that no one else in the world knows or will ever know."

"Yeah, you left me out of a lot of your life."

"It would have come in time for us too -probably. But ..."

"But what?"

"Meeting you came out of nowhere. I had no expectation of meeting anyone and particularly not in a war zone. You surprised me. You delighted me. You were happy and free and easy to be around. I saw everything that was good with you and I forgot how much Bones - Brennan and I had. When you and I met, all I could see was what I didn't have with her and could have with you. But that was wrong. Wrong on my part. I'm sorry. I have been very unfair to you, to Bones and to myself."

She shook her head. "I can't believe you are breaking up with me because of her."

"You deserve someone who will love you completely."

She wiped at her eyes but they were dry. "I suppose I knew it wasn't going to last. I suppose I should have questioned everything more. That was my fault. You were too good to be true and I should never have trusted it. Trusted you."

"I'm sorry."

"So when will Temperance be here? How long do I have to get my stuff out?"

He knew that Hannah was the type of woman to be snide and spiteful - so unlike Brennan. "Bones is in Peru for six weeks. I have no idea if I'm going to be able to convince her to be my partner again much less anything else."

"She would be a fool not to."

"Bones is not like anyone you've ever known."

"I was still expecting that her whole super scientist thing was just an act."

"Nope ... that's Bones."

"Will you be alright by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"So, this is it?" She was a loss over how to leave.

"Yeah. I guess it is."

"I had a great time ... most of it."

"Yeah, me too."

"So, I'll see you in the funny papers, huh Seeley?"

"Yeah."

"I'll come back and get my stuff later. I really am late for ... for... for something."

Hannah blasted out of the apartment quickly so she didn't have to say anything else. Booth was left alone. Finally alone. Finally he was free to think about Brennan they way he wanted to. He had to earn her trust back, as a partner first, then a friend and maybe more. This time he would not give up. He would wait for her. Just like a wild animal, he would sit still and allow her to get comfortable with him. This last betrayal will be hard to get past. But there was no moving on for him, not any more. He would wait. Wait for her.

Wait? Wait? There was something about waiting ... or not waiting that was gnawing at him. It was something that Bren had said in his dream. He closed his eyes and tried to remember. It was on him in a flash: He had asked her, _**"Did you expect me to follow you? To find you?" **_Her response was, "_**No, but if you had, I would have refused you nothing.**_"

Booth was not about to make the same mistake again. He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Sweets, get over here, I need your help. ... No Sweets, now!"


	12. Chapter 12

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 12

**=|=.B.=|=.O.=|=.N.=|=.E.=|=.S.=|=**

Brennan walked into her apartment and tossed her bag down and kicked off her shoes. She normally didn't do it, but that night she poured herself a nice glass of scotch, took a good sip and exhaled. She had been rushing all day. Rushing to finish projects, rushing to make travel arrangements, rushing to talk to people, rushing to avoid people, rushing, rushing, rushing. She didn't need to rush anymore. There were no questions to answer. No decisions to make. She was home. She was alone. She was safe. She had time. Her plane didn't leave until the morning. She had all night to pack and make her apartment ready for her departure. She was good at packing. She had done it enough in her life - at least she had gotten beyond the garbage bag for luggage. She was always packing to go somewhere. Or was she packing to leave where she was? Was there a difference? When she was a kid, she was packing to leave and she never went back. Did she need to come back this time? Was there any reason to come back this time?

She looked around the home that she had created for herself, the sanctuary. It was full of artifacts – things that belonged to people long since dead. There was nothing personal to her. Nothing that was hers. No gifts from friends or family displayed proudly. Her sanctuary was cold. Her home was as sterile as a museum. It wasn't lived in. Angela's apartment had been packed with all kinds of items each one with a story and a person connected to that story, a person she still talked to at least yearly. Booth's apartment was full of objects that meant something to him too; everything used and cared for, touched and appreciated. Nothing of his was behind glass or mounted or on display to be observed at a respectful distance. He lived in his space, Brennan merely co-existed in hers. If she were to lose everything in that apartment – some priceless items - she would still lose nothing personal.

On her way out of the lab earlier, Wendell had asked if she needed anyone to watch her house, water her plants, feed the dog while she was away. No, she didn't have any of that – no plants, no dog, nothing she couldn't bear to lose, nothing that needed her attention, care or concern. That was on purpose. She wanted no ties to a place. She thought it meant freedom, but it was actually more of a burden or it seemed so in reason years. No reason to stay, no reason to come back.

Whose fault was that?

Brennan caught her reflection in a glass case housing Egyptian artifacts.

It was hers.

It was her fault that she didn't allow people in her life. She didn't trust, she didn't forgive, she didn't appreciate the intangibles that people – that individuals brought to her. It was her fault that she was still going from place to place to place without being impacted – just like foster care, like the nomadic existence that her parents lived when she was very young. She was a solitary child, but when she lost her parents and then Russ, and then family after family; she learned that she could rely on no one. She learned that the only constant in life was reason, logic, science. Science was steady - science wouldn't leave her. Science was all she needed to survive.

Was that still the case? Was science enough for her? She had been at the Jeffersonian for thirteen years – about ten years longer than she had been anywhere else in her life. She had shared her life with her co-workers, her friends at the Jeffersonian for nearly a decade. Why was she still living like a nomad – even in her head? Why was she still pretending that people were transitory? That friendships were fleeting? That love was ephemeral?

Angela was right, Brennan was running away - again. She wasn't going somewhere - she was leaving some place, some people. But she didn't want to go. She wanted to stay. She wanted to be part of something larger than herself and her science. But to stay meant dealing with her feelings for Booth, her feelings about Booth and Hannah, dealing with her feelings of loneliness - something she had never felt before. Running away wouldn't help; she learned that in Maluku too. Maybe Sweets was right, she needed to find some closure in her relationship with Booth to help her move on. She couldn't do that from thousands of miles away. She couldn't do that in six to eight weeks. She needed to start impacting her life right away.

She pulled out her cell and called the airlines to cancel her flight. She was staying. She was going to face what she had to face head on. She was going to find closure and get back to work. Another thing she learned in Maluku it was this: she found profound fulfillment in the work she was doing. She liked that she was making a difference, that her work, their work, saved lives and put murders behind bars. Yes, it was sad work, hard work, scary work; sometimes overwhelmingly so. But it was work that needed to be done and she was good at it, they were good at it - all of them, the whole team. She was part of that team. The last time she left the team nearly fell apart. While she didn't believe that she was the lynchpin, she was certainly an integral member of that team. It was nice to think that she was part of something, that she belonged somewhere. She needed to start acting like a full-fledged member and carrying more than her own weight.

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

She was just hanging up when there was a quick desperate knock at the door. Brennan opened it to Sweets and Booth. Booth's looked pale and exhausted. He had his arm wrapped around Sweets for support. Sweets was bending under the weight of him.

"Hi ya, Bones!"

"Dr. Brennan, may we come in?" Sweets panted.

Brennan stepped back and took Booth's other arm and helped him to the sofa. "What is going on? You shouldn't be out, you should be home resting."

"I can rest here. I rested in the car." He looked over at Sweets who had just flopped down into the chair. "Thanks for the ride, Sweets."

"You're kicking me out?"

"Yeah," Booth said firmly.

"I really think it would be better if I helped facilitate this meeting."

Brennan sat down next to Booth on the couch and felt his pulse. "You should not have exerted yourself. Do you want some water? Did you bring your painkillers?"

"I don't need drugs, Bren," he said. "Bones," he corrected. "I'm fine. Really. Just need to catch my breath. Sweets? Thanks a lot. Bye Bye now."

"But I think I could be very useful in this …"

"No, thank you," Booth stated. "We've got it from here."

"The last time you two talked without me -."

"Thank you, Dr. Sweets," Brennan said standing up which forced Sweets to stand up. "I'll see that he gets home."

"But -."

"See ya later, Sweets," Booth called.

"Ok Ok … but before I go, let me counsel active listening, honesty and … and … speak from your heart not from a place of fear or ego. … And ask questions ... clarify ... don't assume that you know what the other is thinking, feeling or saying. … And -"

Brennan ushered him out the door and came back and sat down next to Booth. She put her hand on his forehead and cheek to gauge his temperature. There was an awkward moment where neither knew how to start. "He's probably right," she said softly.

"You think we can't have a conversation without a shrink in the room?"

"Of course not."

They were both silent for a long moment.

"Maybe he's right," Booth said. "Think we can get him back?"

"He's probably in the hallway."

They laughed easily together.

Booth looked at her for a long moment to gather his courage. "I'm not sure where to begin, but here is as good a place as any – don't go to Peru."

"I've already canceled my ticket."

"If you go to Peru you will just have too much time to think and you will talk yourself into … what?"

"I canceled my ticket. Just now, seconds before you knocked on my door."

"Why?"

"I thought it was more important ... important for me that I stayed."

Booth exhaled. "Good … good." He glanced at her with a smile. "Thought that was going to be a fight."

"I know my first reaction is to remove myself from any kind of emotional situation – I do that with science, being hyper rational and overly literal and I do that by literally leaving. It's wrong and very unproductive and it leads to many misunderstandings. I'm sorry, Booth. I have done that to you … to us … to our partnership in the past. I don't want to do that anymore."

"Good, good. That's great ... I mean really great." He leaned back. It was going better than he had expected. "So that brings me to the next thing ... I don't want to dissolve our partnership. We are good together, Bones. We're a hell of a team."

"Yes we are and it would be my choice to continue to work cases … together."

"Work together?"

"Yes."

Well that was two for Booth but somehow he didn't think they were speaking the same language. "Partners?"

She looked down and away. This was where she needed to bring up her trust issues and the past several months where he wasn't treating her or even referring to her as his partner. Sweets would have been very helpful at this point. She didn't want to accuse him of anything, but she had to let him know what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

"Bones?"

"Yes, I would like to reestablish our partnership - the partnership we had before."

Booth didn't want to go back. He wanted to push through. He wanted to get to the other side. "I don't know if we can get that back," he said solemnly. "I don't know if I can do that again." In Booth's mind they had to address the personal feelings that they had for each other. Going back would not do that.

"Oh." She looked miserable but rather than assume, she asked. "Then what are you suggesting?"

Booth wanted to say what he was thinking. He wanted to say what he had hoped would be their outcome, but it just didn't feel right. There were too many other things to say first. "Hey, can I get that water? Or maybe something stronger?"

"Water ... don't think you should be drinking just yet." She got up to get the water. "We should probably get you home too. You need to rest. Dr. Campion wouldn't approve." She handed him the water.

"Dr. Campion likes you," Booth said with an odd smile.

"Yes, I believe he was flirting with me when we had coffee."

"Did he ask you out?"

"You mean for a date?" She shook her head. "No."

"Disappointed?"

She thought back to her conversation with Campion in the cafeteria. She had no interest in him and he discovered that at the time. "No."

This was the right moment to bring up Hannah. "Hannah and I broke up," he said sheepishly.

"I'm sorry."

Booth felt a ton of guilt over Hannah, and a ton more over Brennan; not that his actions were wrong, but it was wrong to deny feelings that would ultimately hurt two women. "Yeah, I am too." He sat silent for a long moment. "Hannah is a fine woman. She has a lot to offer someone, the world. Being a reporter is what she loves, it's her passion and she does it well."

Brennan didn't agree or disagree, but she had to think that Hannah's actions since she had come to Washington were not what a scientist would do. Scientists and reporters were not that different in Brennan's mind. They both looked for clues and tried to find the truth of things. Hannah seemed to take the group of people that were in Booth's life at face value and took her cues from Booth. Brennan really tried to be friends with Hannah, not that she really knew how to make a friend, but she didn't understand the woman. Hannah accepted things too quickly and never asked a question. Brennan found that a strange way to live. Angela the artist asked more questions than Hannah the reporter. In the end Brennan just accepted that Booth loved her and since she cared about him, she needed to care about Hannah. Booth gave that lesson to Parker - she was listening. "You love her," Brennan said with a bit of a lump in her throat echoing the words he said to her that night in the rain. He said that she was not a consolation prize.

"I do ... but wasn't enough."

"For her?" Brennan asked. "She left because you didn't love her enough?"

Booth took a deep breath. "It was my choice. I made the decision and ended things with her." He tried to catch her eye. "I didn't love her the most, Bren."

Brennan heard it again. He called her Bren. Maybe he did have a dream and maybe he was still caught in it like he was the last time. Maybe everything he was saying and doing was colored by that dream and not real. She was uncomfortable.

"What?" he asked her.

She heeded Dr. Sweets' advice once again and did not assume. "When you were in recovery, I fell asleep in the chair." She paused trying to decide how to approach the dream she had.

"Yeah," he prompted.

"I had a very strange dream ..." She caught his eye. He looked intently back at her. She wondered how much she would have to say about what she had experienced. She wondered if she could accept that he had experienced the same thing. She wanted to read in his eyes that it was safe to proceed. She wanted to believe that he would catch her if she fell. He was saying all those things and more but he knew that pushing her was not the way to go. Pushing her, could ultimately push her away. He reached for her hand and pressed it warmly in his. "Booth, I -."

Booth's phone vibrated on the table. Both startled and looked toward the device. Hannah's pictured beamed at them.

The moment was broken.

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**


	13. Chapter 13

Nothing Changes Unless Next A Nightmare

(Working Title: Cathartic Release)

By LizD

Winter 2011

Chapter 13

**=|=.B.=|=.O.=|=.N.=|=.E.=|=.S.=|=**

"Booth, I -."

Booth's phone vibrated on the table. Both startled and looked toward the device. Hannah's pictured beamed at them.

The moment was broken.

Booth reached over and hit ignore, switched it to silent mode and put it face down on the table. "Go on."

"It might have been important."

"This is important, Bones."

"She knows you're here?"

"No. Please … go on." Brennan hesitated. "You said something about a dream? A strange dream?"

"Yes. I had a very strange dream ..." She was too distracted by Hannah's call. It was so unlike Booth not to leap to talk to her or run off at a moment's notice to be with her. It unnerved Brennan a bit. "Booth I really think you need to call her back."

"It's not necessary." He saw that she was unmovable on this topic and relented. "Fine."

She got up and went to her bedroom to give him some privacy.

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

"Hey, missed your call … no, I'm not home … yes … yes … yes. Hannah, I'm fine." He was silent for a long moment. "That would be fine. Now is fine really." He was silent again for a moment. "Is that really what you want to do? … You're sure. … Then I'm happy for you. … Of course, I am. When do you leave? … That soon, huh? … Tomorrow lunch sounds fine. … I'll ask her. … No, I'm with her now. … No, not right now … because we're in the middle of something. … No, no … nothing like that. We are talking. … Ok … Ok … great … congratulations."

Booth ended the call and put the phone back down on the table. He really wanted to get up and walk around but he wasn't supposed to do that yet. In fact he really should be lying down. He had been sitting up more hours that day than he had in a week and it was taking a toll.

"Bones?" he called to her. "Bones?"

When she came back she had changed into something more comfortable – sweats and a t-shirt. Booth had always found her beautiful, but there was something about her when she dressed down; no jewelry, no make-up, no pretense at being formal. He would almost say relaxed. She was spectacular. She was somebody he knew he would still find stunningly beautiful in his old age and hers.

"Everything OK?"

"Yes, Hannah has taken an assignment in South America."

"Really?" She sat down on the couch but it was farther away from him. "I assumed she would want to go back to the war zone."

"The Canadians are pulling out. There won't be anyone left soon. There is some big story breaking in South America, she wants to be a part of it."

Brennan just nodded. She still didn't understand Hannah. "Booth, can I ask … when did you end your relationship with her?"

"Shortly before I came over here."

"This afternoon? When you got home from the hospital?"

"Yes." He looked a little embarrassed. "I had made the decision several days ago … To be honest I knew Hannah and I were over when I woke up after surgery."

"So you broke up with her hours ago and now she is going to South America and you are OK with that?"

He shrugged. "Yes ... Yeah, I'm fine with it. I've had several days to get used to the idea and the way she has been with me this week, she was pretty used to the idea too. I'm glad that she has something to move on to."

Brennan shook her head. "I don't understand ... people say I am cold and unfeeling."

"Bones, no ... don't say that." He reached for her.

"Why are you here, Booth?"

"Specifically?" He took hold of her hand. "To get you to change your travel plans."

"Done," she stated slipping her hand from his. "You should probably go home. You need to rest."

"I'm OK, Bones. I'd like to continue our conversation."

"I can't ... not right now ... not today." She stood up and moved away.

"When?"

"Soon."

"Will you come visit me tomorrow?"

"Of course." She realized that he was at her mercy to get home. He shouldn't be alone not the first day home from the hospital. "Will you be alone at home tonight?"

"Hannah is staying with a friend." He said thinking she was still concerned about Hannah. Interestingly enough, Booth had let Hannah go and she was gone - from his mind, from his heart.

"You shouldn't be alone." Brennan looked down and away. There was the responsible side of her telling her to do what was right. But there was another side of her that said she needed to take care of herself. "You'll stay in the guest room." She stated. "And you should probably eat something … have you eaten anything at all today?"

"Lunch … hospital lunch … would love a beer and some Thai."

Brennan looked warily at him.

"Come on, Doc … what harm could a beer do … just one and some meekrob."

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

Dinner was not as easy as it was familiar. They talked around safe subjects. She caught him looking at her a lot, like he used to. She wasn't quite ready to accept his switch. He went to bed early. He was exhausted. Brennan slipped out to go to his apartment and pick up his prescriptions, toiletries and a change of clothes or two. She was reluctant to go herself; she did not want to run into Hannah. She wouldn't know what to say. Luckily that was not an issue. Hannah had come and gone. It was odd how little she had impacted his house. There was a note by the phone Hannah had given him and other than those two items, his apartment looked the same as it always had. She wondered if that was why Booth could let her go so easily, because she was never completely in his life.

Brennan found it hard to sleep that night. She tossed and turned. Every time she closed her eyes she was back in that dream or some weird combination of the dream and reality.

Around four AM she got up and went to the living room. It was nights like those she was grateful she lived alone. She could read, or write or listen to music ... anything she wanted to do. But Booth was there. He needed his rest. So she sat in the dark looking out her balcony doors at the moon.

Booth must not have been sleeping either. He came out about ten minutes later.

"Can't sleep?" he asked softly.

"No."

"Me either."

"Should I make us some coffee?"

"No," he flopped down on the couch. "How about a scotch?"

"Booth your prescriptions say that they are not to be taken with alcohol."

"So I won't take any drugs."

They sat quietly for a long moment not saying anything. Brennan did not get him the scotch.

"Why don't you tell me about that dream you had," he prompted.

She turned to him. She could see the bandage in his silhouette. "What do you think will happen?"

"If we talk about it?" He inhaled deeply and let out a long slow exhale. "Maybe we will understand each other better."

She was going to argue the point. She was going to deflect and remove herself from the situation, but she realized that as an old pattern that she was trying to avoid. Since it was on her mind, her thoughts were pretty close to the surface she had things to say. Maybe it would be good to discuss it. "I'm not sure how to interpret it but it was as if I was looking in ... no ... it was as if I was living the life of those people from the book a year or so later." She looked over at him. "They were not in a happy place. The couple ... the night club owners were headed for a divorce and ..."

"And worse ... I know."

"How do you know?"

"I can't explain it ... but I was there too." He chuckled. "Maybe you talked in your sleep."

"It was very disturbing," she stated.

"It was ... very vivid, very real ... too real. I'll never forget the image of you in my arms with your heart ... No." He shook the image away. "I blame the anesthesia."

"I didn't have any," Brennan stated.

"It was very enlightening. Seeing how far such a perfect couple could fall when communication was lost." He sat forward slightly, sorry that there was so much distance between them. "Those people, Bones ... those people are not us."

"I know," she said her voice cracking. "But I feel an overwhelming desire to apologize to you for her actions."

"I know, me too."

She moved over to the couch. "But I have enough of my own apologies to make."

"No," he protested.

"And there is one I need to hear ... first I need to understand why."

Booth nodded. "I know. I know and I'm sorry."

"Can you please explain it to me?" Brennan asked.

"I'll try," he said nervously. He sat up and thought about putting his hand through his hair and thought better of it. No hair. Big bandage. Healing wound. "That night ... after we talked to Sweets ... well before we went to talk to Sweets ... I wasn't thinking that I would ask you to move our relationship to the next level. I had thought about it a lot, but was always afraid of your answer ... apparently it was not an unreasonable fear."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm trying to explain."

"What does that night have to do with telling Hannah ... with telling Hannah what I told you ... what I revealed to you a couple of weeks ago?"

"Huh?"

"You hurt me, Booth. I shared something with you that was very personal and very raw, you had to appreciate that. You had to know how big that was for me. And to be rejected was very difficult too. But the final ... the final insult was that you told Hannah."

"I don't understand."

"You told Hannah my deepest secret. You broke my trust. We have always had trust - always. We worked for it. We earned it. And you ... you just... you have been treating me differently since you have been back. I accepted that because of our time apart and your new relationship, but I thought we were still partners."

"We are," he protested.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"It was something Hannah needed to know."

"Why? You know me Booth. You have known me for years. You know me better than anyone else in the world. I would never have done anything to interfere with your relationship with Hannah in spite of what it was doing to me."

"Doing to you?"

"Yes, it was very painful watching you two, seeing you two so in love, witnessing you two building a life together."

Booth winced at her assessment.

"I assume that part of the pain was because I knew that I had no place in your life anymore. And the pain increased when I finally accepted that it came from envy, jealousy; that I had an opportunity to have that kind of relationship with you and I rejected it out of fear. I would never have that chance again because you had found Hannah. But none of that matters. I loved … I cared about you enough to want you to be happy – regardless of my feelings. I would never have intruded or done anything to ruin your relationship, or challenge our partnership, or affected my friendship with Hannah. I feel I have demonstrated that over and over again these past months. Hannah did not need to know, and you did not need to tell her."

Booth was very uncomfortable. "I felt like I was keeping a secret from her."

"Yes, my secret. As I have kept many of yours and would have kept yours from her - the brain tumor for example or any number of things we discussed in confidence. It's what partners do. You taught me that."

Booth was floored. He thought she would be upset about the other woman - most women would take that as a personal affront - but one more time Bones proved to not be like any other woman.

"I'm sorry, Bones ... I really felt that Hannah needed to know that we had a bit of a past particularly since you-."

"It was not your right to tell," she stated.

"Sweets said -."

"You spoke with Dr. Sweets about this?"

"Yes, but -."

"Why didn't you discuss it with me? Why couldn't you have allowed me to prepare myself? All I knew was that Hannah was avoiding me and when I challenged her on it, she blindsided me. I was hurt, confused and I felt betrayed by you. How could you do that?"

Booth sat back. He hadn't thought about it from Bones' perspective. In fact he really didn't think about Bones at all - consciously. Maybe Sweets was right. Maybe Booth felt the need to tell Hannah because he was feeling guilty about harboring feelings for Brennan. Maybe telling Hannah was an act of sabotage. It was hard to know what he was thinking before. The dream had messed with his head and confused a lot, it clarified much more.

"I don't know why I didn't tell you," he said after a long moment. "It was not my intention to hurt you." He looked away. "I see now that it did and you're right." He looked back and looked directly into her expectant eyes. "I trust you with everything I am and everything I was. If you had shared any of that with Hannah or anyone else, I would have seen it as a betrayal. I'm sorry. "

She nodded but didn't say anything.

"Do you accept my apology?"

"Yes," she said. "But if we are to continue our working relationship, the trust will have to be earned again."

"I accept that. I'm not going anywhere, Bones. I want us to be more than colleagues, more than partners - no matter how long it takes."

She didn't know how to respond to that.

"I need to confess something to you that I'm not sure I fully understand." She looked up into his eyes. He was earnest. She nodded for him to continue. "These past months ... this past year … longer … since we parted at the airport I have been struggling to figure out how to fit you in my life. I loved you but couldn't have you. You didn't want me, but yet you were still there every day, day in and day out. You held yourself just out of reach. I wanted to hope that things might change ... that you might change your mind, but ..." He leaned closer. "But then you were gone. Poof ...gone. We were completely cut off."

"Yes." She didn't understand what the problem was.

"Bones, you may be able to move people in and out of your life like turning off a switch, but I can't."

She wanted to suggest that he had just done that with Hannah, but felt that that was not what he was trying to say, he was not looking for a debate, he was trying to tell her something. She needed to hear it.

"I went from seeing you every day, all day to nothing. Not an email, not a letter, not a text message from you … nothing. It was as if you erased me from your existence."

"Not true at all. I didn't contact anyone. I responded to Angela a couple of times."

"But not me?"

"You didn't write to me. I didn't get an email, a letter, a text message."

"I was waiting for you. You were the one who needed to leave. Who had become disillusioned with the job, with the partnership."

"No, not you ... I didn't leave you."

"Yes, you did Bones," he pressed. "How could you just cut me out of your life like that?"

"You should have told me," she protested.

"There are some things that you shouldn't have to tell people." He swallowed. "I was pretty pissed off with you about that for a long time in Afghanistan. When we met up again back here in DC, you acted like you wanted to just pick off as if no time and nothing had passed between us. Seven month, Bones. Seven long months of nothing. Things change, people change, lives change."

"I was made acutely aware of how much can change in the time. However I did not change. Me and pyramids, right Booth?"

"Yeah," he half laughed. "I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. It made me ... I don't know ... annoyed with you. I have been keeping my distance, personally and professionally. I haven't been very nice to you," he announced.

"I've noticed."

"Well I should have been more upfront with my feelings. I should have told you why."

"If I had corresponded with you, would it have made a difference?"

"Of course."

"Any real difference?" She nodded toward his phone on the coffee table.

"Real Difference? You mean with Hannah? Yeah, maybe. If I thought that we had a chance at all, I never would have gotten involved with her. If we had opened a dialog maybe we would have ... I don't know, come to a better understanding. We wouldn't have wasted so much time ... and nearly lost everything."

Brennan got up and went to her desk. She pulled out a leather bound manuscript and brought it back to Booth. She handed it to him.

"What is this?"

"That is a book I wrote while I was in Maluku."

He was confused. She never let him read her work. He had to buy the book just like everyone else. "When is it coming out?"

"It's not. My editor rejected it. Said my readers don't want to read … let me see how she put it … my readers don't want to read such sentimental crap. Told me to take it home and add a few dead bodies and some really complicated science and bring it back."

"And?"

"That is not the story I wanted to tell, so I won't get it published."

"You want me to read this?"

"If you're interested in what I was thinking about you while I was away, but you certainly don't have to."

"No, No ... I want to. I'm honored that you asked."

"Angela called it a love letter, but it's a piece of fiction."

"Is it?"

She shrugged a nod. "Booth I feel like we have been given another chance - that we have given ourselves another chance."

"We have."

"But it's too soon. Too many misunderstandings have come between us. I will need some time to work through them."

"I understand."

"You need to recover from your surgery."

"I do. But we can keep talking, right? Working together, being together?"

She smiled. "Yes ... I most definitely think we should keep the lines of communication open."

He reached over and took her hand. She pressed it back. "I feel like I just got home and I have been away far too long."

She agreed.

"Welcome home, Bones."

"Welcome home, Booth."

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

Booth's recovery was quick - Brennan's book helped. It was a love letter; one she dedicated to him. It brought him closer to understanding her thinking. He was back to work in four weeks. No issue with brain being scrambled this time. Brennan helped him through his recovery. Sweets continued to try to help them, but was rejected at every turn. He had done enough. Hannah's departure was easy as well. She came to see Brennan before she left. The talk was civil. If she was affected at all, Brennan couldn't see it. It was clear to both women that their 'friendship' was solely based on their connection to Booth and would not continue. The topic of Hannah was not taboo between Booth and Brennan, no topic was taboo, but they didn't dwell on the past year, they focused on the future.

For ten weeks after Booth returned to work, they resumed their partnership and their work. It quickly became what it was before. They worked well together - the whole team. If there were comments about Hannah's departure, nothing was said in Brennan's presence. Parker didn't seem to notice that Hannah was gone and was particularly nice to Brennan. He enjoyed his time with his father and Brennan.

They were at a crime scene, a particularly gruesome one at a video and electronics store. The only light was coming from the wall of TVs all turned to the same channel that cast an eerie flickering shadow on the victim. The sound that boomed out of the TVs filled the space. Booth had bellowed twice to cut the feed on the TV and get the lights on, all to no avail.

They had assumed their normal positions: Brennan squatting down next to the body and Booth standing nearby taking notes. The light from the TVs grew bright and it caught their attention. They both looked over and watched in stunned silence as a familiar face reported on the recent unrest in Guyana.

"That is all we have for now, this is Hannah Burley reporting from Guyana for CBC."

The line to the TVs was cut and the lights came up. Booth and Brennan exchanged a look but didn't say anything. They finished processing the crime scene. Brennan chose not to ride back to the Jeffersonian in the truck. She rode with Booth.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"I am." He glanced toward her. "You?"

"Yes."

"Do we have to talk about anything?"

She shook her head.

The ride to the Jeffersonian was quiet. There was no reason that Hannah should shake them. They were back and had been for a while. They were both just so comfortable with the way things were, that neither one wanted to disturb that.

Brennan climbed out of the SUV and moved to the rear of the vehicle to grab her bags. Booth fumbled with the back gate. They both reached in to grab the bag and their hands touched. Their eyes snapped to each other. Booth took her hand and turned toward her. She smiled and her eyes lit up. He stepped closer. He could fee his heart rate quicken, his breathing grew shallow. She stepped toward him.

"Would you have dinner with me tonight?" he asked looking deeply into her eyes.

"Of course," she said easily. They had been sharing many meals in the past couple of months.

"Not just dinner ... a date ... you and me, good food, good wine ... no talk of work." He leaned toward her.

She felt her stomach tighten in the way it does when she is excited or nervous. "I'd like that." She leaned toward him.

He smiled. "I would too."

He closed the distance between them and lightly pressed his lips to hers softly, tenderly and all too quickly. They leaned back to look into each other's eyes. He had imagined so many time how and where he would kiss her again. There were times at the Founding Fathers over drinks when he wanted to and nearly did. There were times leaving her apartment late after a working dinner that he really wanted to and nearly did. There were times that he swore she wanted it too, but he was waiting for the right time and place. He never imagined it would be in the parking garage at the Jeffersonian, in the middle of the day, with cars coming and going at the start of a murder investigation. Booth assumed that the next time he kissed her it would not end until morning - at least he hoped it would last all night. Brennan felt the same way and had the same hope.

The Jeffersonian van pulled past them and Cam, Wendell and Hodgins climbed out. "Come on you two, we have a murder to solve," Hodgins called to them.

Booth and Brennan hadn't moved. They were millimeters apart, close enough to share the same oxygen, their eyes locked. He didn't move. "Yeah, we have a murder to solve."

She cocked her head in that way she does that had caught his attention from that very first day. "Yeah, we have a murder to solve," she echoed.

He reached up and brushed some hair off her face and let his fingers curls around the back of her head. He pulled her toward him, but she was already there. Their lips met again and parted. Arms tangled around each other. They used the SUV for support as the physical world around them faded; they were consumed by the electricity they were creating between each other.

Booth couldn't help the stupid grin that spread across his face. So much better than the first time. Brennan put her hand on his chest which kept him from backing away too much. She clearly wanted to be kissed again.

Cam, Hodgins and Wendell were walking toward the lab. Booth and Brennan were obstructed from view. "You guys coming?" Cam called.

A flash of desire and recognition passed unspoken between them. Brennan was the one who spoke. "You guys get started; we have a lead we want to follow up."

"OK."

With great reluctance they parted to go to their respective side of the vehicle. They climbed in and looked at each other. "We can't make a habit of this?" he said with a grin starting the engine and putting the vehicle in reverse.

"We'll see about that." She nodded for him to watch the road and not her, but she put her hand on his thigh which actually made it harder for him to concentrate on the road.

**=|=.B.=|=.&.=|=.B.=|=**

Four hours later they were back at the lab. They weren't fooling any one. The stupid grins that they couldn't wipe off their faces were mirrored in everyone else around them. Their concentration level was only good for about ninety minutes. Booth found Brennan in the bone room and gave her some information he was just given by the FBI. She wasn't listening.

"Bones," he said playfully. "We need to stay focused."

"I am focused," she said.

"The case, Bones ... the case."

She let out a string of facts that she had uncovered. Booth was having a hard time keeping up. "I can multitask, Booth."

"I have recently learned that about you." He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Looking forward to learning every detail there is to know about you?"

"I'm an open book."

He leaned in and kissed her. It was supposed to be a little kiss but he couldn't help himself. Cam cleared her throat in the doorway. "So ... about the victim ..."

They were back to work. They would need some time to balance the work and play but they were up to it. They were ready for it. It was the right time and the right place - FINALLY.

**=|=.B.=|=.O.=|=.N.=|=.E.=|=.S.=|=**

A/N: Thanks for playing along. It was cathartic at time and it was FanFIXion at times. Who knows what the writers, cast and crew will throw at us next. Let's hope we all survive. Lizzie - out.


End file.
